


Noisy Neighbors

by noodlecatposts



Series: Noisy Neighbors AU [1]
Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Depression, Drink Spiking, Drinking, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friends to Lovers, It's A Long Ride Guys, Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 67
Words: 253,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: It’s weird to think that a little over six months ago, Aelin was standing on stage, trying to get the audience to listen to them as they played, and now, she can’t even go to her favorite gym anymore... It’s weird how having everyone suddenly know your name makes you irrevocably and undeniably alone.
Relationships: Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Dorian Havilliard, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Chaol Westfall, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Lyria/Rowan Whitethorn, Sam Cortland/Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien
Series: Noisy Neighbors AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734661
Comments: 874
Kudos: 796





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I’m just impressed that I managed to wait until Friday to post this. I had a wildly vivid dream Monday night of the latter part of this chapter and some other bits and pieces, and here we are!

###  **Wendlyn’s next big hit: The Cadre.**

Aelin isn’t sure why Rowan still rents this shitty, old apartment. Their music is selling; the band is making money. Rowan is making money. He can afford something a hundred times nicer than this ramshackle, one-bed number on the far side of town. Hell, on the path that they’ve found themselves on, Rowan could afford to live in her building soon, in a fancy apartment like hers, bought with her parents’ old money.

When she asks him as much, Rowan just grunts, “I like my apartment.”

A blatant lie if Aelin’s ever heard one. All he’s ever done is bitch about this place, about the lack of hot water and noisy neighbors, about the shitty landlord and the cost to quality ratio. Aelin won’t push him on it, though; she knows what this is about. He’s comfortable, clinging to the last shreds of an old, familiar life that’s very, very quickly fading away.

“I got recognized at the Mistward the other day,” Aelin says, changing the subject. Rowan’s head jerks up in surprise, not that she was recognized—it’s easy to say Aelin’s place as their frontwoman is cause for their launch to fame, a young audience’s sudden obsession with her—but rather, Rowan is upset that she went somewhere alone.

“It was fine,” she says before he can scold her. “I just slipped out a side entrance, courtesy of Mort. A car was waiting for me, and I got home without incident.”

“You shouldn’t go out to places like that alone,” Rowan growls. “Not now.”

Aelin arches a brow, “You and the guys go places alone all the time.”

“Yeah,” Rowan agrees, “but even I got fucking mauled at the grocery store yesterday, and I’m over six feet tall. Aelin, you’re—”

“A woman?” She challenges. Rowan sighs, hands on the counter and head bowed over the dinner he’s cooking them. It’s an old ritual. Rowan cooks, and they smoke some shit, and then they stay up writing for hours. Sometimes days if the inspiration is good enough.

“Not six feet tall, and over two hundred pounds,” Rowan supplies. He knows she can kick ass, has had his ass kicked by her before, but Rowan always gets overprotective of her. All of the guys do. Joining the band was like going from being an only child to being the youngest and only girl of six. And all her brothers were overprotective giants. And they came with an equally giant, overprotective uncle—Gavriel, their manager. Aelin’s actual uncle.

“Ro—”

“Please don’t argue this,” he pleads softly. There’s something in his eyes that stops the words trying to escape her throat. “Things aren’t like they used to be, Ace. Not anymore, and I don’t think we’re ever going to get that back.”

She knows he’s talking about them, about the band, about their anonymity fading into oblivion. It’s weird to think that a little over six months ago, Aelin was standing on stage, trying to get the audience to listen to them as they played, and now, she can’t even go to her favorite gym anymore.

Aelin had to buy the equipment and set up a gym in her home because even her fellow well-to-do tenants wanted to chat her up in the private gym in their building. It’s weird how having everyone suddenly know your name makes you irrevocably and undeniably alone.

“I’m not getting fucking bodyguards,” Aelin hisses, and Rowan smiles. “With you oafs, I’ve already got six—seven if you count Aedion. And you’re free.”

Rowan’s smile doesn’t fade, “We are.”

“Fuck you,” Aelin huffs, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Don’t look at me like that. You fucking weirdo.”

Rowan chuckles, plating up their food. He slides it onto the cheap table and walks over to her, tugging on a piece of her hair. “Says the woman that’s turned her hair…”

“Electric purple,” she supplies with a twist of her mouth. Aelin thinks it turned out fucking awesome. “And it’s not weird—it’s cool.”

“Sure it is, Ace. Sure.”

###  **_Noisy Neighbors_ makes platinum.**

Rowan’s food is delicious, as always. Aelin would come to his house for dinner every night if their apartments were closer; his cooking definitely beats the infinite pile of takeout she consumes in his absence.

Then they get to work on their next song. Rowan’s got an idea, nothing more than a lilting guitar melody, but they’ve worked with less before.

Aelin holds the smoke in her lungs as long as it takes for her to come to a decision on the song’s subject matter. Rowan rolls his eyes at her, but he doesn’t miss a note as he plucks the guitar strings with practiced grace.

Aelin wouldn’t mind finding out what other skills those fingers possessed. The thought is fleeting, passing; it disappears before she needs to stamp it out. A dangerous train of thought about an even more deadly subject.

Aelin releases the smoke and surrenders the joint to Rowan, warm, callused fingers scraping against her hands. The piano doesn’t leave the same set of scars, something Rowan never lets her live down.

“It’s a breakup song,” she announces. Rowan snorts.

“It’s always a breakup song with you,” he complains. “This is what we get for letting a girl—“

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin ignores how his name rolling off her tongue gives her a thrill. “If you’re about to suggest that I write breakup songs because I’m a girl, you’re in for a very long night.”

He grunts as if to say _I’m already in for a long night,_ and some of the smoke escapes his nostrils. The picture of an irritated dragon. It makes Aelin giggle. He exhales and grins.

“How are you supposed to write a heartbreaking ballad if you’re too high to stop giggling?” Rowan asks, but his smile doesn’t fade.

“I’m a woman of many talents,” Aelin tells him, wiggling her eyebrows.

Rowan rolls his eyes, handing her the joint. “That you are.”

###  **Who is Aelin Galathynius?**

Aelin isn’t sure when she started dancing, singing at the top of her lungs, but she can’t seem to bring herself to stop. She’s in a really fucking good mood, and Rowan is indulging her, something he never does, by playing one melody after another.

The banging on the far wall tells them both that they’re getting on those noisy neighbors’ nerves, but Aelin doesn’t give a shit. Neither does Rowan based off of the challenging look he gives the cracked plaster wall.

Rowan plays harder, amping up the volume of the acoustic instrument as much as he can without plugging it in. Aelin throws her head back and laughs. She can hardly hear the sound of her laughter over Rowan’s guitar.

The song is done. It’s a hit. Aelin can feel it.

The banging on the front door interrupts their party. Rowan looks pissed, ready for a fight Aelin makes to follow him, to play back up or mediator she isn’t sure, but Rowan stays her with a hand. He doesn’t let her answer the door on this side of town; she has to text him when the cab arrives so he can meet her at the door.

It’s nice. Having someone look after her for a change.

Rowan’s nice.

Aelin listens to Rowan and the neighbor argue. The man calls their music bullshit, and Aelin’s hackles rise at the insult. It’s fine to not like something, not all music is for everyone, but—

“Stop being a fucking dick and get out of my doorway,” Rowan snarls. He’s taken offense too. The silent message is there between the words, in Rowan’s emerald eyes, and the set of his jaw.

Fuck off. Before I make you.

Wisely, the neighbor takes off. Rowan’s a big guy and strong as hell. Not many people stand up to him. Aelin is one of the rare few. Rowan won’t hurt her; she trusts him.

“We should probably call it a night,” Rowan laments. He doesn’t want the landlord called again. Last time it was a whole thing, and the record company put in a few clauses about getting in trouble in their contracts. They don’t want their brand new moneymaker to get into a public relations scandal.

Aelin pouts, making a smile tug at his lips. “You need to move,” she repeats.

Rowan rolls his eyes but comes close to her side. Without thinking, Aelin wraps her arms around his neck, swaying from one foot to the other. Rowan’s hands fall to her waist easily, a familiar, comfortable weight.

She’s surprised when Rowan’s eyes drop to her lips, less surprised by how her heart races with excitement. Aelin might be in denial, but she’s aware of it—if that makes sense. His eyes snap back to hers immediately, and Aelin can’t resist licking her lips a moment later, testing to see if he repeats the gesture. He does.

It’s like all the air leaves the room. Time slows down. Aelin’s considered it more than a few times. She just never believed Rowan might be considering it too.

Their noses brush, and the little air left in Aelin’s lungs abandons her. She nuzzles his face, her nose trailing along his cheekbone. Aelin’s heart races, and Rowan chuckles, mirroring the gesture. She leans up onto her toes; the only thought on her mind is catching that full bottom lip with her teeth. Then Rowan’s nose drags its way down her cheek. They’re both breathing hard. Aelin thinks she might die if—

Aelin’s phone rings. An alarming trill meant to get her attention in any situation goes off. Rowan and Aelin spring apart, and for a moment, Aelin is confused by the loss of contact, her mind reeling.

Rowan is the first to act. He grabs her phone off the coffee table, answering before it can go to voicemail.

“Hey, Eva,” Rowan greets Aelin’s mother with familiarity. He even gets to use her nickname, which is totally unfair. “Yeah, she’s here with me. Of course. You know I always keep her well fed. One sec.”

Rowan hands her the phone. Aelin’s fingers tremble as she answers.

“H-hello?” Her mother talks so swiftly that Aelin’s addled brain struggles to keep up. “What? No, I didn’t get your text. We were writing. Hold on a sec; I’m way too high for you to talk so fast.”

The AELIN GALATHYNIUS that comes out of the phone speaker can probably be heard by Rowan’s asshole neighbors. Her mother doesn’t approve.

Aelin looks to Rowan, giving him a look of old suffering. She’s surprised to find his eyes dark, a frown on his lips. Like he’s upset.

“Mom,” Aelin pleads. “I’ll call you back in the morning. Okay? No, brunch. Because I’m sleeping at 8 o’clock, that’s why. I’d rather fucking starve—”

A groan. “Fine. Bye.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn: the creative team behind the Cadre.**

They don’t talk about it. Rowan makes excuses about needing to get some sleep, and they part for the evening. Aelin is too afraid to bring it up before she leaves, and the next time she sees him, Aelin is trembling with fear.

The drugs got the better of them is what she tells herself. Aelin needs to keep away from whatever else could have caused that moment. Relationships break bands all of the time. Fuck, friendships do. Fuck, drugs do.

Aelin loves this band—needs it. She doesn’t know what else she’d do with her life otherwise. So, they never bring it up, and if Rowan notices she drops the drugs, he doesn’t say anything either. Gavriel orders them to lay off anything illegal anyway, and that seals the deal.

But it doesn’t stop Aelin from reliving that moment for days, weeks. She wonders what would have happened if her mother hadn’t called if Aelin should be thankful for the interruption or hold an every-lasting grudge against her mother.

Rowan was going to kiss her.

Aelin wishes he had.

###  **Are they, or aren’t they? _Rowaelin_.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In rare form, I have back to back updates for one fic! I hope this gives those of you homebound a little something to do. I was trying to get more done today, but then I took a three-hour nap… SO, that went well.   
> Also, I’m not a songwriter… Don’t be surprised when I start borrowing lyrics/songs. I’ve used some book quotes, too. *shrugs*

###  **_Noisy Neighbors_ tour sold out.**

“Buzzard, that girl’s been eyeing you all night,” Aelin says, poking her best friend in the ribs a little harder than necessary. Rowan hisses and shoots her a glare to tell her just how he feels about her bony fingers; Aelin only grins at the sign of his fury. Rowan Whitethorn doesn’t scare her.

She pushes the matter, “Well? Are you going to go say hello? Or are you just going to stand here and glower in hopes that she’s got more balls than you?”

Lorcan howls with laughter from behind her, and the twins bite their lips to keep from laughing. Vaughan isn’t paying attention, per usual, but Aelin raises her perfectly done brow in a challenge, managing to look down on Rowan from where she sits on a stool in front of them. A queen on her throne.

Rowan sighs; although, the breath comes out closer to a growl. “You’re so fucking nosey, Ace. Leave me alone.”

She punches him this time. “You’ve been stealing glances at that little assistant all night. Man up and go say hi… Or I will for you.”

Aelin aims for a second punch, but Rowan catches her fist this time. She nearly falls off the stool she’s precariously posed on, and she screams in surprise when she starts to tip. Rowan and Lorcan work together to keep her from falling, and the whole gang breaks into a peal of full laughter. Aelin scowls.

“If everyone could just hold for _one_ second,” the photographer orders gently.

They’re trying to get pictures for the press or some shit. It’s a whole thing. Aelin’s a little grumpy that the men are dressed rather plainly, but she had to sit through three hours of makeup. The heels they put her in aren’t comfortable, but she is trying to figure out how to steal the dress without getting caught.

“One more second, please.”

The Cadre isn’t an easy subject to work with; Aelin feels a little bad for the tired photographer. Gavriel barks something rude at them, and the guys and Aelin fall into line. The man clicks furiously, taking advantage of this opportunity. Rowdy rockstars indeed.

Gavriel stands to the side, staring at a monitor. Aelin won’t go over there for fear of her vanity, making this whole thing last hours longer. She’s hypercritical of herself, Rowan says. So, she has very specific orders to stay away from it if at all possible.

Their manager nods once at the photographer, and the man visibly relaxes with relief. Gavriel turns his attention to the band, “Excellent. Let’s take a break, and then we’ll take some single shots.”

Aelin sighs and kicks off the heels as the guys begin to wander off. She’s not getting off this stool unless someone carries her. Rowan hangs behind, chuckling softly at her antics like he knows her thoughts. Aelin growls at him. Maybe he should wear the heels for a little while.

Fenrys interrupts before they can get into a bickering match, “Now’s your chance, Whitethorn.”

Rowan sends him a deathly glare, and Aelin bursts into laughter. Fenrys flashes a teasing smile towards them as he walks away. He’s the real beauty of this band, Aelin thinks. No matter what anyone else has to say.

Aelin is still giggling as Rowan turns that look on her. There’s no missing the fond glint in his eyes; a smile fights its way onto his lips, rare and beautiful. Aelin hears the audible click of the camera, pretends not to know precisely what Gavriel is up to.

“What are you high or something, Ace?” He asks, knowing that giggle. Rowan taps her nose once, and she swats him away.

Aelin chokes on her laugh, “What? No.”

He gives her a disbelieving look despite knowing they’ve both cut back on the shit they were up to. It’s hard to do this life with all of that poison in their system. Aelin holds up one hand, “Scout’s honor.”

“That’s not the sign,” Rowan rolls his eyes at her, fixing her fingers in the proper position.

“ _Of course_ , you were a boy scout,” Aelin says, grinning. He raises a brow, communicating his next question in that silent way of theirs, “Rich girls go to etiquette class or ballroom dancing or some shit. Not girl scouts.”

“And what did you do?” He asks.

Aelin grins wickedly, “Some shit.”

Rowan breaks into a deep laugh at that, and Aelin beams with pride. It’s considered a great success to get Rowan Whitethorn to laugh like that. Broody bastard. She pretends not to notice how her stomach flips at the sight of his happiness.

“Aelin,” her uncle begins, interrupting them. “Would you mind putting your shoes back on?”

“Yes,” she tells him, not missing a beat. Rowan is still grinning as Aelin turns her sass on her uncle. “Very much.”

###  **The Cadre shares a rare behind the scenes picture.**

“Hello!” Aelin greets the woman refilling the craft service table. She startles, nearly spilling the bag of pretzels she holds, and Aelin flinches, looking visibly guilty. “My bad.”

“H-hi,” the woman responds. “It’s okay. You just snuck up on me.”

“She’s a sneaky fucker,” Fenrys says, approaching them. He rests his head on Aelin’s shoulder, and she beams at his praise. To anyone else, it would sound like an insult, but they’re just like that.

The woman looks likely to flee at any moment, brown eyes darting around in search of help. Someone must not have to talk to the talent very often. Fenrys senses this as well, adding, “But she cries at pictures of puppies, so don’t let her scare you.”

Aelin elbows him, and Fenrys grunts, leaving before she can do it again.

“I’m Aelin,” she offers her hand with another smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The assistant hesitates to return the gesture, but she does eventually, her grip featherlight. “Lyria.”

“Oh, pretty,” Aelin tells her kindly, trying to ease her anxiety.

“Can I help you with something, Aelin?” Lyria asks, prepared to fulfill her duties.

“Uh, no, not really,” Aelin flashes her a wry smile. “I’m meddling.”

“Meddling?” The woman’s brown eyes go wide.

“Just wait,” Aelin tells her, raising a brow. The woman complies, tugging at her fingers in nervousness.

Rowan appears in a heartbeat. A warning flares in those green eyes of his, and Aelin has to bite her lip to hide the laughter that threatens to escape. Rowan walked right into this one; she’s won this round.

“Rowan,” Aelin begins, and her best friend shoots her a look. He’s on to her. A moment too late. Now he’s trapped. “I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Lyria.”

The assistant turns positively red under Rowan’s gaze, and Aelin’s heart skips with delight and a little something else she shoves aside. Aelin continues her meddling, “Lyria, I’d like you to meet Rowan. He’s not as scary as he likes to pretend to be.”

The pair stare at each other. Aelin watches in anticipation.

“Rowan,” her bandmate says, offering his hand. “Uh, well, I guess she already said that.”

This time Lyria accepts the offered handshake readily. Her smile is still nervous, but Lyria’s eyes are filled with excitement. “Lyria.”

###  **Back in the studio already? Aelin Galathynius spotted at Adarlan Records.**

No one is free to hang out with Aelin in the studio, but she’s been requested to lay down a track for some upcoming movie or another. She never turns down an opportunity to create; Aelin only wishes Rowan were around to join her, but he had plans.

She has an idea of what, of whom with, but Rowan’s always been awfully tight-lipped about his dating life. He always waits until it becomes a thing before he tells her about it, and even then, Aelin doesn’t get very much. Rowan just isn’t a sharer like Aelin; that’s what she has Fenrys for.

**How’s the writing?** Rowan texts sometime later, interrupting Aelin from her costly session of staring at the wall. She scowls at the phone, even though Rowan can’t see it.

**How fucking dare you** , she answers. Then because she can’t resist: **How’s the date?**

**That good, eh?** Rowan follows the text with several of those money flying away emojis. Honestly, teaching him to use them was the worst decision Aelin’s ever made. She never anticipated him using the skill _against her_.

He texts again before Aelin comes up with an insult to fling. **It’s going fine. Pretty well, actually.**

Aelin has nothing to say to that, so she sets the machine to record and marches for the piano. Recording alone. Who told Aelin that would be fun?

###  **What The Cadre is doing before their next tour leg.**

The melody that comes out of her is slow and haunting, a mix of turmoil and dread. Nothing that comes after this interlude will be cheery. Aelin drags the music on and on, waiting for the words to come. Seriously, the most expensive brainstorming session ever.

“You could rattle the stars,” Aelin sings into the air. Gods save her if the mic isn’t set up correctly to pick it up. “You could do anything… If only you dared.”

Huh, Aelin thinks. That’s weird.

One foot on the pedal, Aelin allows the music to ring out the last notes into the room as she considers the lyrics. Eventually, the final note she played fades to nothing, and Aelin sighs. She’s not making very much progress.

“Well, that was pretty ominous,” a voice says into the mic, causing Aelin to jump. The notes screech at her as her hand slams onto the keys. There’s a chuckle, and then, “Sorry.”

“Fucking hell,” Aelin hisses, turning towards the board to glare at whoever decided to shave precious years off her life. A pair of sparkling ice blue eyes smile at her.

“I’m Dorian,” the sparkling eyed man tells her. Aelin scowls at him. She knows _exactly_ who Dorian Havilliard is, and her marching orders are to stay the hell away from him. “And you are?”

“Busy,” she tells him, turning back to the keys. She glares at them, the fucking traitors.

The mic clicks back on.

“Well, that’s not very nice of you,” he teases, and Aelin’s hackles rise. “I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

“Thereby implying you already know who I am,” she calls over her shoulder. Aelin presses on the keys, searching for another chord progression. She’s literally never going to write this song; she’s going to get fired from writing it. Can she get fired from writing it? Aelin should ask her uncle.

“Of course, I know who you are,” Dorian persists. “Just how you know who I am.”

“Look,” Aelin says, turning back around on the piano bench to glare at the son of the man who owns Adarlan Records, who owns her. “While I’m finding this conversation to be very intere—Oh, fuck it. I’m working. Bugger off.”

“Bugger off?” Dorian sounds delighted when he repeats her. “That’s what you decided to go with? Aren’t you a rockstar? An award-winning lyricist?”

She flips him off instead of responding. Dorian grins like the devil before he nods once and takes his leave of the space. Aelin glares after him long after the door closes.

###  **Rowan Whitethorn out for lunch. A date, perhaps?**

“Did I just see Dorian _Havilliard_ leave your studio?” Rowan asks with no small amount of accusation. Aelin pretends not to hear him, writing down the rest of the lyrics now spilling from her brain and onto the paper. Anger is inspiring; who knew?

“Ace,” Rowan growls, demanding an answer.

“What?” She snaps; Aelin’s feeling pretty defensive. It’s none of Rowan’s business who Aelin spends her time with, even if Dorian is the last person on the list. “You wanna start telling me how to live my life?”

Rowan holds his hands up in surrender, “That’s not what I’m doing, and you know it.”

“So what are you doing, Rowan?” She yells, her words rebounding in the soundproof room. Aelin doesn’t know why she’s like this suddenly, but she can’t stop. “Besides, interrupting me.”

“I’m—fuck, Ace. What’s up your ass all of a sudden?” Rowan runs his hand through his hair. Aelin takes a moment to drink in his appearance. He’s all cleaned up, dressed to impress; it just pisses her off more. Rowan could care less about his appearance on a normal day. “I came over to give you a hand.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need your help,” she hisses, turning her back on him. “I’ve got it all under control.”

Rowan is silent for a long time, but Aelin knows he’s still there, can feel his eyes on her, trying to puzzle her current mood out. He sighs heavily, boots padding on the carpet as he walks up behind her. Aelin’s shoulders tense; she’ll likely cry if he touches her right now.

He must know it, too, because Rowan opts out of physical contact. He sets down a piece of folded up paper on the little table she’s writing at, and then Rowan leaves the studio without a goodbye.

Aelin keeps writing, ignoring the paper. She’s madder at herself than Rowan now, and worse, the guilt has finally hit for taking out her frustrations on him. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and Aelin gives up on her song, picking up the piece of paper. Now that’s she’s lost her anger, she’s curious about what he’s brought her.

Rowan’s messy scrawl covers every available space of the half sheet. It’s on the back of a menu of all things, squeezed into the margins, like Rowan couldn’t wait to get the words to paper… before his date was over. It’s the beginning of a love song.

“Fuck,” Aelin swears. She was an ass to him, while all Rowan wanted to do was share this with her. She’ll need to apologize to him, but first—

Aelin ditches the piano because if she knows Rowan at all, this song was meant to be played with an acoustic guitar accompaniment. The lyrics are, surprisingly, written from the male perspective. They’ve always written music in Aelin’s voice, but this gives her an idea.

Rowan’s written a verse and scribbled down a few words that appear to be the beginnings of a chorus. Aelin sets about writing another verse and finishing the song. This time she writes from the female perspective. A duet. A first for the band, but she thinks the guys will like it—assuming she can convince Rowan to sing in front of people and not just within the safety of his apartment with her.

She gets more done in the next two hours then she’s managed all day. In the end, Aelin is satisfied. She needs to record it and send it to Rowan for his approval. Hopefully, he’s not still too mad at her. An apology song, that’s what she’s written.

###  **Dorian Havilliard, Party Prince of Adarlan Records.**

“Hey! Party Prince!” She calls after a familiar silhouette, head peeking out of the doorway of the space she’s rented. Dorian turns around just before he makes the corner, eyebrow raised in surprise. “I assume Daddy taught you to use the equipment in this place, yeah?”

Dorian’s eyes light up, “I think I can manage.”

“Great,” she says. “Get your ass in here.”

“You don’t use the word please very often, do you?” Dorian says drily as he follows after her back into the recording booth.

“Nope. I don’t know that word,” Aelin quips, and Dorian chuckles. “You can teach it to me later when we’re done.”

“Gladly.”

“Excellent. Now I want to get this in one take, so don’t fuck it up,” Aelin orders, and Dorian chuckles again.

Aelin flops into a chair and rests the guitar in her lap. Aelin gives Dorian a warning look when she notices the way he’s appreciating her from the other side of the glass. He grins, salutes.

There’s a promise in Dorian’s smile that sets off warning bells in Aelin’s head, but she’s a girl on a mission right now. She doesn’t have time to weigh the consequences of letting Dorian in a little. That’ll just have to be a problem for later.

###  **The Cadre’s new single, _Shallow._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> casual reminder of all the angst and pining and slow burning... <3

###  **The Cadre finishes their _Noisy Neighbors_ tour with a bang!**

Aelin wakes up in an unfamiliar room and stares at the plain white ceiling. Her head is killing her, and she definitely might throw up if she moves into the vertical position. Fuck, she thinks she’s going to die.

Someone groans from beside her and a flash of panic hits Aelin. She does not remember enough of last night to know who’s in her bed with her. _Shit_ , is this not her bed? This is definitely not her bed. What fucking country is she in? What year is it? She is going to be sick.

The words must escape her because the man next to her grunts. Relief floods her at the familiar sound of Lorcan’s voice, “Just don’t fucking puke in the bed, Ace.”

Aelin rolls out of bed, still fully dressed, and lands on her knees. Maybe she’s still drunk if the way the world spins is any indication. She’s definitely dying. This isn’t her shirt. She moans as her brain bounces around in her skull; Aelin can feel her pulse in her eyeballs.

“What fucking poison did you feed me, Lor?” She cries, crawling towards the bathroom. Standing up poses too much of a challenge. At least she thinks she’s headed towards the bathroom. The man complains at her volume, and Aelin winces, both of their voices too loud for either of them to tolerate.

“Blame Vaughan,” he says. “Quiet bastard is made of steel.”

“Ugh,” Aelin’s arms give out, and she face-plants into the soft carpet of the hotel. This is it; this is how she goes. It seems fitting based on the trajectory of her life. Her mother will be so disappointed in her. “I’m dying.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to kill you if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Lorcan growls. He throws a pillow at Aelin, and she grunts as it bounces off of her back. She reaches out and tugs it close, resting her head on it. She’s vaguely aware of her bandmate flopping around the bed like a fish out of water before pulling the sheets up over his head and going still.

“Lor,” she cries. “Stop being so loud.”

“I hate you,” he tells her. “I’m never going out with you again.”

“Fucking baby,” Aelin tells him, but they lapse into silence. Dying here won’t be so bad, Aelin thinks. At least, she’ll die with Lorcan at her side.

Then the door to their hotel room opens. Aelin mumbles _Go away_ to whoever it is at the door, but their footsteps just come closer.

She can sense Rowan without having to open her eyes, which is a good thing because Aelin might die if the sun gets to her. Rowan chuckles and brushes the hair out of her face; she hums at the gentle contact. It’s pretty nice.

“I was wondering where you ended up last night,” he says softly. “I knocked on your door forever.”

“Couldn’t answer,” Aelin mumbles. “I died.”

Another deep chuckle. Rowan pets her head once, and then his footsteps retreat. Aelin misses the hair petting immediately. It felt nice, and she’s definitely dying.

Lorcan barks out a string of swear words that has Aelin cringing and hiding beneath her pillow. Rowan returns the insults with a few of his own as he drags the man from bed.

“I don’t see you dumping Aelin onto the floor,” Lorcan says as he hits the ground with a thump. Aelin watches them through the slits of her eyelids, but the world is too bright to participate.

“Yeah, well, she appears to have already done that to herself,” Rowan says drily. “We’ve got a plane to catch in a few hours. So, you two should probably start sobering up.”

“But it hurts,” Aelin complains. Lorcan laughs, groans immediately.

“C’mon, Ace,” Rowan says softly, prying the woman from the ground. Aelin frowns, but she leans into Rowan’s side. He’s warm and comfortable. “Let’s get you back to your room, and then you can sleep it off on the plane, yeah?”

“Mm,” she coos. “Sleep sounds good.”

“You know,” Lor calls after them, grouchily. “Sometimes, I think you like her more than me, _Buzzard_.”

Rowan holds the door open for Aelin, glancing back at one of his best friends with a grin, “You just now figuring that one out?”

###  **What’s next for The Cadre? Sleep, says frontwoman Aelin Galathynius.**

Aelin is barely conscious as the flight leaves the Southern Continent. Rowan sits beside her and shares his arm space; he wakes her up to get her to drink water and shares his pretzels somewhere over the ocean. Most of the band is in a state similar to Aelin. Fenrys and Connall don’t make a peep for the entire flight. Vaughan appears to be stone cold sober. Rude.

“How are you so peppy?” Aelin grumbles through a mouthful of pretzel, and Rowan flashes her a disgusted look. They’re soaking up the shit in her belly, and she’s starting to feel better, more human, by the second. “You went just as hard as the rest of us.”

Rowan arches a brow at her, “I took a second to drink some water. Do you remember doing that at all?”

“Look, I don’t even remember getting back to the hotel last night,” Aelin makes a face, thinking. “And I’m pretty sure I woke up in Fenrys’s shirt, so there’s a story there that I have yet to uncover.”

Rowan chuckles, “You can be a sloppy drunk sometimes, Ace.”

She holds a hand to her chest, “Me? I seem to recall a certain silver-haired man serenading me with a Beyoncé song last night. _Quite_ the baritone.”

Rowan’s face turns serious, “I have no recollection of that. Must’ve been someone else.”

“Mhm,” she hums, unable to hide the smile on her face. It doesn’t happen very often, but Drunk Rowan can be a lot of fun when he decides to let loose. “Well, if you figure out his name, let me know. He had some pretty sweet moves on the dance floor.”

“Fuck you,” Rowan hisses, but the venom in his voice gets lost in his laughter as he shoves her shoulder. Aelin’s grin reaches from ear to ear.

###  **_Shallow_ remains #1 on the Hot 100.**

Rowan is restless; Aelin notices. He’s tapping his fingers to an invisible rhythm and bouncing his leg like he might take off running at any second. Aelin shoots him a look, “I’ve never known you to be so excited about a flight.”

In fact, Rowan hates flying. It’s gotten better recently, with all the traveling that’s necessary for a tour abroad, but Rowan’s never enjoyed take-off, always needs someone to hold hands with during it.

He smiles softly, guiltily, “Lyria’s meeting us at the airport.”

“Oh,” Aelin manages a smile despite the squeezing feeling in her chest. “That’s nice. What’re you guys up to?”

“Her parents invited us over for dinner,” Rowan says. “After all this time on the road, I’m ready for a home-cooked meal.”

“Parents,” Aelin echoes, “That’s… serious.”

Rowan rolls his eyes at her, “And I have you to thank for that. You’re the one who stuck her nose where it didn’t belong and got us to talk in the first place.” He nudges her softly with an elbow, and Aelin grunts her displeasure. She’s suddenly not in the mood to joke around with him, “Thanks, Ace. I owe you.”

Aelin manages her wicked smile just barely. She nestles down into her chair and closes her eyes. It’s easier if she doesn’t have to look at him. “A debt I am prepared to call in one day, Mr. Whitethorn. Just you wait.”

###  **The Cadre, rumored to be nominated for Best New Artist, Album of the Year?**

Sure enough, Lyria is waiting with a homemade sign that reads ROWAN WHITETHORN, written in a perfect scrawling script. Rowan beams at the sight of her, rushing to his girlfriend and sweeping her into an embrace. Aelin has to look away as he spins Lyria around, making her squeal with excitement. It’s confusing, this soft side of Rowan coming out in public.

“Connall and I are going to hit up that pizza place on sixth,” Fenrys tells her, giving Aelin the excuse she needs to look away from the couple. The guitarist observes Rowan for a minute with fondness, “Loverboy seems otherwise engaged. Are you in?”

“Nah,” Aelin tells him, waving him off. “I think I’m going to head home and sleep for a couple of years. Thanks for the invite.”

Fenrys ruffles her hair, and she scowls at him as he leaves. Vaughan trails after the twins, scrolling idly through his phone, but Lorcan hangs back to check on her. The drummer looks better than he did this morning. Aelin hopes they can say the same for her.

“You need a ride?” He asks, watching her closely. Aelin pretends not to notice and adjusts the shades on her nose. “I know you and Rowan usually have your thing, but—“

“It’s all good,” Aelin cuts him off with a shrug. “I’m tired, anyway. No need to make a fuss.”

“Ace, if you—“

“Have a good night, Lor,” Aelin interrupts with a smile. “See you in a couple of days, yeah?”

Lorcan looks unconvinced, but he sighs and gives in, “Yeah. Sure.”

Aelin all but runs away from the gang. Rowan hasn’t even noticed that the band has ditched him; he and Lyria are too wrapped up in one another. The guys don’t mind, but Aelin does. She does a lot more than she cares to admit.

They have a ritual, she and Rowan. A ritual that her friend appears to have forgotten amongst the joy of being in love. For as long as she’s known Rowan, the two of them have always returned home after a long trip and immediately hit up their favorite restaurant

The place is one of those joints that the random passerby would never dream of entering, but that’s always been what Rowan and Aelin liked about it. The owner is ancient, but he and his husband, Malakai, are kind. And most importantly, the food is delicious.

Rowan always wins them brownie points for being able to order in the Old Tongue. Emrys was thrilled to find someone who spoke the tongue fluently, but no one was more shocked than Aelin. She had no idea Rowan could speak in another language. She’d tried to learn, wanted to join in on the animated conversations, but was less than successful.

###  **The Cadre’s Rowan Whitethorn spotted in Downtown Doranelle with girlfriend.**

Part of her wants to gently remind Rowan of the tradition, but now that he’s failed to bring it up, now that he’s made other plans, Aelin starts to wonder if maybe she read more into it than there was. Maybe it wasn’t their thing. Maybe it was just something that they sometimes did.

Maybe he’d just forgotten. Maybe that’s worse.

So, Aelin goes alone. Emrys is surprised to see her, but wisely, the man doesn’t ask about her usual cohort. It’s for the best; Aelin isn’t positive that she could keep her cool and answer him properly. Appropriately.

Instead, Aelin shoots him a grin and claims their usual table. She doesn’t have to order; Emrys knows her well enough by now to know what to bring her. He’ll bring her the regular order, and if Aelin knows the older man as well as she thinks he does, he’ll bring some healthy options she doesn’t want, too.

She’s waiting for the food when the text comes in. **Shit, Ace. I totally forgot.** Aelin’s stomach falls as she watches the ellipses pop up as Rowan keeps typing. **I was so excited to see L that it slipped my mind.**

Yup. It was way worse. Aelin wishes Rowan had just forgotten entirely. **It’s cool. You’ve taught me enough survival skills to make sure I’m fed, Buzzard. Next time.**

**I’m so fucking sorry,** he repeats. Aelin can easily imagine the guilty look he’s wearing as he watches the phone. **We can go next week when I’m back in town. Forgive me.**

**Back in town?** Is what Aelin focuses on.

**Yeah, Lyria and I are going away for the weekend,** Rowan says. **We leave tomorrow.**

Aelin frowns at her phone. They literally just got off a plane, and now Rowan’s leaving town? Who is this person claiming to be her best friend? Rowan doesn’t like to leave the few blocks surrounding his apartment, much less the city altogether.

“You are way too pretty to be so sad,” a perky voice says as an aged hand places a plate of food in front of her. Malakai sits across from her, claiming Rowan’s empty seat. “It’s going to give you wrinkles, frowning like that.”

Aelin cracks a grin, “They look so good on you that I figured I’d give it a try.”

Malakai gives her an unamused look, “Eat your vegetables before I kick you out.”

“Blech,” Aelin replies. She hates vegetables; it’s a long-standing joke with him and Rowan to get her to eat nutritionally. The thought makes her stomach twist. “Can’t we just skip to the chocolate part? I need a chocolate IV. Stat.”

She thinks he must have noticed the sadness because Malakai is particularly lenient tonight. He gives her a soft smile, telling her, “Eat your dinner, and I’ll get Riss to make your dessert. You could use it. You’re too skinny as it is.”

“All the more reason to skip the vegetables,” she calls after him. He scoffs at her and leaves to find his husband. Aelin sighs.

###  **The Cadre, a year later.**

“Hey!” Emrys cheers when the door opens again. Aelin looks up, and for a heartbeat, she hopes that it’s Rowan. But that’s just silly. Luca stands there, rolling his eyes at his parents, and Aelin smiles. She likes Luca.

“Look who it is!” Emrys says, voice teasing. Luca is a few years younger than Aelin, even younger than Rowan. He may or may not have a bit of a crush on Aelin. Rowan, too.

Luca’s father nods towards where Aelin sits at her table. She’s eaten just enough vegetables to earn dessert, she thinks. Luca’s face brightens visibly at the sight of her, and in no time, he’s claiming the empty seat across from her, excitement in every line of his face.

“Hey stranger,” Aelin teases.

“Hey—hi,” Luca blushes, and Aelin’s smile grows. “I didn’t know you were back!”

“Of course, you did,” she argues, leaning back lazily in her chair. “Stalker.”

Luca turns even redder, “What? I—I’m not—”

Aelin giggles, “I’m just fucking with you, man.”

“Language,” Malakai scolds as he brings out the hazelnut chocolate cake. There’s way more on this plate than usually is a serving, but Aelin’s not going to complain about it. She smiles in thanks and claims a fork.

She shares her dessert with Luca because she’s not a complete monster. Aelin catches up on what is going on in the youngster’s life. He’s about to graduate from high school, which Aelin just thinks is wild. She remembers when he started high school, back when she was barely out of it herself.

“Anyway, none of them believe I know you,” Luca laments to her as they finish the cake. “They call me a liar, so I quit telling people.”

“Well,” Aelin says, wiping the last bit of chocolate frosting off of the plate. No one can make a cake like Emrys, Evalin Galathynius step aside. “I can fix that.”

Luca perks up at that, “How so?”

Aelin can feel that her grin is wicked. She reaches out across the table and snatches the teenager’s phone off of the tabletop.

“I assume you have Snapchat on this bad boy, yeah?” Aelin muses, frowning at the lock screen. “You have a password? What do you have on your phone that you need a password for? You’re like twelve.”

Luca takes the phone and unlocks it, grumbling _I just turned eighteen_ underneath his breath. He passes the phone back to Aelin, and she pulls up the camera, pressing record.

“What’s up—kids,” Aelin chokes internally on the word _assholes_. Malakai would murder her, and then Gavriel would revive her to kill her again. “For those of you who don’t know who I am, my name is Aelin Galathynius, and I play in a little band called The Cadre.”

Luca sits across from her gaping.

“I just finished eating some of the best cake ever with my old friend,” Aelin flips the camera so that Luca’s face appears on the screen, “Luca Cook. Wave for the camera, Luc.”

The boy waves and Aelin giggles.

“Right,” she turns the camera back around. “That’s all I’ve got. Have a goodnight! Don’t do drugs, kids!”

She ends the snap and breaks into laughter. Yeah, she’ll be hearing about this one in the morning. Everyone in Wendlyn probably will be.

“I’m going to get you more cake,” Luca says, nodding decisively. Aelin cheers as he walks away. All in all, not a bad night. Too bad she keeps thinking that there’s one person missing.

###  **Aelin Galathynius snap goes viral.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I messed up a little, I think. I tried to establish the timeline for the last chapter with the headlines, but I could’ve placed that one year headline closer to the beginning? IDK. Anyway, the whole third chapter takes place “one year later” (and all in the same day) from the very first chapter (with the second being six months after the beginning). My bad for those who found it unclear.

###  **The Cadre back in the studio!**

Aelin’s been back in Wendlyn for a few weeks when she wakes up in a warm bed that isn’t her own again. This time she isn’t hungover or dying or any of the things that she usually is when she wakes up somewhere strange, but Aelin definitely took some shit last night that she should’ve stayed away from.

She stretches and groans. Lorcan isn’t in the bed with her, and she’s definitely not wearing Fenrys’s shirt this time. She’s not wearing much of anything.

A tan arm appears from under the covers and snakes around her waist when she tries to slip out of bed without disturbing her companion. Aelin grumbles weakly as it tugs her back into the bed, but at the feeling of the warm body pressed behind her, she relents and snuggles back into the bare chest behind her. This is nice.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Dorian’s voice is rough with sleep, and his breath tickles the back of Aelin’s neck, making her squirm around in his arms. Dorian only laughs, the sound rolling down her spine. He presses a kiss to her neck, and Aelin hums, happy and content.

“Well, I was headed towards the little girl’s room when you decided to hold me hostage,” Aelin explains, and Dorian makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, complaining as Aelin starts to wiggle free of his grip. He lets her go quickly but not without a fuss.

###  **Wendlyn Music Awards, March 8th.**

In the bathroom, Aelin stares at her reflection in the mirror. The pink dye she streaked through her hair in a dingy hotel in Antica has nearly faded to oblivion by now; it gives her golden locks a weird hue. It’s definitely looked better, she thinks, eyeing the mop of hair. It’s a mess, really, a tangle of bedhead and sex hair and just Aelin’s cursed genetics.

“You, my old friend, have seen better days,” she tells herself before setting about detangling her hair with her fingers. The battle is hard-won, but Aelin manages to tame her hair into a braid. It’ll do for now, but Aelin needs to make a few calls and get the beast tamed once more.

Aelin claims Dorian’s discarded shirt from the floor and shrugs it on as she makes her way into the living room of the grandeur apartment. Floor to ceiling windows create the outside walls, letting in the early morning light of the city. Up here in the clouds, Aelin can’t even hear the street traffic.

“Have you realized that you literally live in a fucking crystal palace in the sky?” she asks Dorian as she makes the mistake of looking down towards the street beneath them from the wall of windows. Yep, she should not have done that.

“I like natural light,” he jokes from the kitchen. There’s a pause, and then, “And I like you in my shirt, Galathynius.”

Aelin rolls her eyes, but a smile spreads across her face, just the same. Dorian isn’t a particularly broad-shouldered guy, and he’s no giant like any of her bandmates. Still, the stolen shirt hangs from her frame, dwarfing her. The fabric is kind of soft, though; she might have to take it from him.

She looks towards the kitchen and finds Dorian. She was a little disappointed to find the bed empty when she reappeared from the bathroom, but the sight of Dorian digging through his kitchen cabinets in nothing but a pair of low slung sweatpants makes up for it.

“How do you feel about some toast?” Dorian asks. His eyes crinkle when he notices Aelin checking him out. She smiles shamelessly. “It’s the only thing I have right now, it would seem.”

“Depends,” she tells him, joining him in the pristine white kitchen. She hops onto the counter, swinging her legs and kicking the bottom cabinetry. “Does it come with coffee?”

Dorian is at her side in an instant, standing between her legs, hands roaming her bare legs. He’s remorseful when he tells her, “Sadly, I appear to also be out of coffee.”

“Well, that does it,” Aelin feigns outrage, breaking free of Dorian and hoping from the counter. “I’m outta here.”

Dorian is quick to catch her by the hips and pull her back to him, laughing as she squeals, “No! I must leave! I can’t live like this! I need coffee!”

“What a drama queen,” Dorian accuses through his laughter. Aelin wrestles to free herself from his grasp, giggling. “You’re such a brat!”

Displeased, Aelin spins around and punches him in the shoulder. Dorian flinches visibly but keeps his grip. He looks a little surprised by her strength, which pleases Aelin to no end. She’s in a rock band with five huge and intimidating men; Aelin can hold her own.

“That was mean,” she tells him in a childlike tone. “Take it back!”

“The truth hurts,” Dorian insists, hands held out in supplication. “However can I make it up to you?”

Aelin crosses her arms and pouts like a child, but Dorian just smiles, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Does that make up for it?”

When she doesn’t break, he tries another kiss; this one heavier than the last. “How about that?”

Her frown doesn’t fade as he kisses her neck softly. She suggests, “Coffee would make it better.”

Dorian signs, but his smile is amused, “Your wish is my command.”

At last, Aelin smiles.

###  **The Cadre’s Next Album, Sooner than Expected?**

“How do you feel about the color red?” Aelin asks Rowan from her side of the couch. She’s got her feet in his lap as she twirls a lock of faded pink hair around her fingers.

They’re supposed to be writing, but they can’t agree on anything today. Rowan wants to write about touring, which Aelin is not in the mood for, and Aelin feels inclined to write about hookup and club culture, which just earned her Rowan’s Disapproving Dad Face.

Rowan exhales the smoke of his cigarette. He turns his green eyes on her and frowns. “It’s a little aggressive for my taste, and it’s proven to make people feel hungry—“

Aelin kicks him lightly with her foot. “For my hair, you asshole.”

Her best friend catches her leg by the ankle, wrapping his fingers around it and holding it firm. Rowan thinks about her question carefully and sets her foot in his lap. He doesn’t release the offending limb, though.

Aelin watches him curiously, ignoring the way his warm fingers make her skin burn. It’s fucked up. This is her best friend. Her bandmate. A man that’s happily in a relationship with another woman—one that Aelin helped set him up with. Because she’s a fucking idiot.

And yet. Aelin just spent over 48 hours cooped up in a penthouse with a pretty great guy having great sex, but all the orgasms she experienced this weekend fail to compare to the thrill of Rowan’s fingers on her ankle.

Rowan meets her eye, and for a horrible second, Aelin panics that he’s just read her thoughts. Or worse, she said something out loud. She’s pretty sure that whatever she took this morning with Dorian isn’t out of her system entirely. Maybe that’s why she can’t write anything. Too high—not high enough? Fuck.

“Turquoise,” Rowan tells her softly. Aelin knows he’s noticed her dilated pupils lately, but he’s trying very hard not to pick a fight. Things have been weird between them lately. Since their non-fight over breaking their traditional visit to Emrys’ place.

He clears his throat, breaking eye contact at last. “It’s a good color for you.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius debuts blue hair on her Instagram.**

The front door opens to the shitty apartment just as Aelin is falling asleep to the sound of the sports game Rowan is watching. His fingers are tracing soft circles into the skin on the inside of her ankle, and Aelin’s feeling pretty content for the first time in a while.

“Oh, hello,” Lyria’s soft alto voice fills the space. “I didn’t think you two would still be working. Sorry for interrupting.”

Rowan smiles at his girlfriend, and his fingers still. “Not a problem, love. Tonight was a bust.”

Aelin grumbles her agreement, and Lyria laughs softly. Rowan squeezes her ankle once before releasing it. “Besides, this one is too busy sleeping to get any work done.”

“I’m stoned,” Aelin admits without care. Lyria goes still. She doesn’t like the drugs, doesn’t approve, which works out because they’re not supposed to be doing any. Aelin’s been bending the rules lately, but everyone in the band does on occasion.

Except for Rowan, who minds his girlfriend’s requests with the utmost loyalty. Aelin kind of hates him for it. Maybe she should hate herself for it.

Lyria and Rowan share a look. Aelin watches them quietly as Lyria excuses herself to the bedroom, bidding Aelin a good night.

Rowan looks exasperated,. He gives Aelin a look that tells her he’d like to say some things about her recent recreational activities, about the company she’s been keeping, but Aelin changes the topic before Rowan can broach it. “Your girlfriend came over to go to _sleep_?”

She watches her best friend go still. Rowan’s already stoic face shutters, and Aelin becomes suspicious, alert. She waits, letting him find the words for what he needs to say, “She, uh, lives here.”

“What?” It’s a good thing she isn’t standing, or Aelin may have fallen over. It feels like the floor just fell out from beneath her. “She _lives_ here? Buzz—Row—You didn’t tell us?”

Rowan doesn’t say anything, and Aelin’s heart falls. “You didn’t tell _me_.”

There’s a long, heavy pause.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me, Rowan?” she asks finally, feeling very defensive. How did she not know that her best friend was living with his girlfriend? The woman he’s known for half a year. The woman Aelin set him up with. The same woman that Aelin isn’t entirely sure _likes_ her.

Rowan rubs at his face. “Because I knew you’d make a big deal out of it, Ace,” he gives her a pointed look. “Besides, I didn’t want to tell you by the phone, but you haven’t exactly been reachable lately.”

“I’ve been sitting on your couch all fucking day, man,” Aelin argues, pissed off. And for a good reason. It’s almost like he was going to let the day pass without mentioning it. Aelin would’ve figured it out eventually. Right?

He gives her an impatient look, and Aelin realizes with a jolt that Rowan is mad with her. What a joke. His voice is hard, full of judgment when he speaks next. “Stoned out of your fucking mind on whatever shit that asshole gave you.”

“Don’t do that,” Aelin hisses, trying really hard not to yell at him and attract the attention of the woman in the other room. “Don’t try and make this about Dorian or make me the bad guy here. You _moved in with your girlfriend_ , and you didn’t tell your best friend—that’s me, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Rowan glares, “Not everything is about you, Aelin. Get over yourself.”

Aelin feels the words like a physical blow. She flinches, and her hackles rise. She’s about two seconds from spewing every awful word she can grasp at when Rowan beats her to the punch.

“You know, your mother called me. Blew up my phone freaking out because you weren’t answering your phone, and you weren’t at your apartment,” Rowan’s eyes burn with accusation. He knows precisely where Aelin was, and he doesn’t approve. “She thought you were dead or something.”

He raises his brow at her. Aelin’s mom isn’t the only person that she blew off this weekend to hang out with Dorian, “What? You too busy to call your mom back now? Too busy fucking around with _Dorian_ _Havilliard_ to answer the phone—for anyone?”

She scoffs, rubbing at her face while she tries to process Rowan’s words. “I’m sorry, but are you mad at me for _dating_ someone?”

“I’m mad at you for ghosting me, Ace,” Rowan’s voice is firm, unbending. “We had plans, remember? Writing new music? You used to like to do that.”

“That’s so rich,” Aelin’s laugh is bitter. He’s mad at her for breaking plans, for being unavailable. “You know what? I’m just going to go.”

Rowan manages to mock her with nothing more than an exhale, “Typical Aelin. Someone tells her something she doesn’t like, and she takes off.”

“Typical Rowan,” Aelin hisses, and now she’s shouting as she heads for the door. Lyria peeks out the bedroom door, worried brown eyes checking on them. It just pisses Aelin off more; this is none of her business. “Someone says something that he doesn’t like, and he lashes out at them.”

“Says the pot to the kettle!” he calls after her, but Aelin’s already slamming the door.

###  **Aelin Galathynius spotted at Mistward, Dorian Havilliard, in tow.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all of your lovely comments! Sorry to break your hearts over and over, but these two are having a hard time.

###  **Havilliard Inc. purchases nightclub, The Rift.**

The music in the club beats in time with the pounding of Aelin’s heart. It’s so loud on the dance floor that she can barely make out the music, hear the different parts, differentiate between the words and the instruments, but Aelin’s able to feel the bass in her stomach. And it’s enough to dance along.

She got separated from Dorian a little while ago, carried away in the euphoria and sea of bodies and flashing lights. The ecstasy she took earlier has her seeing in technicolor, and Aelin is on top of the world.

She gets lost on the dance floor, in the music, in the high she’s riding. It’s been a pretty great couple of nights. After walking out on Rowan, Aelin made the trek back across town to Dorian’s apartment. She caught him on the way out to a party, and he invited her to join. She didn’t think twice about saying yes.

Dorian knows how to find a good party, and if he can’t find one, he’s always ready to throw one. Aelin would never have wasted days party all night and sleeping in before, but post-tour, she found herself with free time aplenty. It didn’t matter if Aelin stayed out all night; she didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning. Or in the afternoon.

###  **Adarlan Records promises new music from The Cadre coming soon.**

Later, when she stumbles into the bathroom, Aelin’s ears pop with the change in volume. It’s so quiet in here that Aelin feels a little disoriented, but she thinks that could also be a side effect of the drugs. She checks her phone.

 **Looking good, Galathynius!** Fenrys shouts into the phone in response to her Snapchat from the beginning of the evening. Aelin beams at the video of him and his brother. Connall screams in the background something terribly lewd, and Fenrys starts laughing so hard, Aelin can see the tears in his eyes.

She flips to the next snap. Lorcan’s face pops up with an eyebrow raised. He’s at the gym—shocker. The text caption reads, **That midget looking out for you?**

 **Rude,** she messages back. **He’s of perfectly average size. Above average in some aspects.**

 **Fuck.** An instant response. **I did not need to know that about him. We need to work on your oversharing, Ace.**

Aelin giggles and turns the camera on. She clicks Lorcan’s name and records a video of herself wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, but she can’t keep up the act and breaks into laughter. She sends it with abandon.

Vaughan doesn’t like Snapchat. Yet, he checked it for her, responding via text. Grandpa. **Have fun. Let me know if you need a ride. Or when you get home safe.**

 **Yessir,** she tells him, smiling.

Someone enters the bathroom then, and Aelin leans out of the way to let the person pass. She doesn’t look up, too busy scrolling through her phone to see if Rowan’s responded to any of her snaps. A click tells her that he hasn’t even viewed them.

He’s stonewalling her, which pisses Aelin off to no end, but she’s not going to be the first person to apologize, the first to break. Fuck that. Rowan’s the one who keeps pushing her away, replacing her with his sweet girlfriend.

Whatever, she doesn’t need him.

“You’re Aelin fucking Galathynius, aren’t you?” Someone interrupts, and Aelin looks up, squinting in the dim bathroom to find who recognized her. She’s definitely not in the right kind of state to be a good role model for the public eye.

The woman grins like a madwoman in the adjacent mirror as if she’s sensed Aelin’s concerns. She’s gorgeous really, full-figured, and dressed in a bodycon number meant to make both guys and Aelin alike drool all over themselves while fawning over her.

Aelin grins fiendishly, “That’s what my mother calls me anyway, but the rest of the world usually just calls me Aelin.”

The woman’s green eyes sparkle with approval, “Well, Aelin, I’m Lysandra.”

###  **Lysandra Ennar. The face of Wendlyn’s fashion.**

Aelin and Lysandra click in place without effort. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the drugs or both, but Aelin spills her guts to Lysandra without a second thought. Lysandra, under the influence of her own vice, does the same. A shitty mom that left her to an uncle. A little sister that Lysandra can’t get custody of despite her newfound celebrity status.

They cry, and then they laugh because they’re totally _those drunk girls crying in the club bathroom._

“Alright, Aelin,” Lysandra begins as she wipes Aelin’s face, fixing her makeup. As a model, Lysandra knows all kinds of tricks to make someone look good under pressure. Aelin should have found a model friend _ages ago._ Boys for bandmates—a terrible idea.

Lysandra inspects Aelin’s appearance, smiling with satisfaction before saying, _“_ Boys and moms are stupid. Now let’s go fucking dance it out.”

Aelin sniffles, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Oh honey,” Lysandra waves her off. “You’re in love with that utterly unavailable bandmate of yours.”

“What?” Aelin scoffs, but she wonders if Lysandra can see it as her world turns upside down—Maybe it’s turning right side up because suddenly everything makes a hell of a lot of more sense. _Holy fucking shit._

“I’m not in love with Rowan,” she insists, and Lysandra rolls her eyes at her new friend. Aelin growls. “I take it back. We aren’t friends; you and I are over, Lys.”

They link fingers anyway, and Lys leads her out of the bathroom, laughing the kind of sultry sound that gives Aelin goosebumps. She needs to stop making friends with such attractive people; it’s confusing.

Aelin dances with her new best friend for hours or minutes or days. They’re having a great time, and the music is good, and for a little while, Aelin forgets to check her phone after every phantom buzz. Rowan isn’t going to talk to her until she apologizes, but she’s not going to apologize when she is in the right.

A pair of hands grab her by the hips, and Aelin is about two seconds from decking whatever asshole was brave enough to grab her when Dorian speaks in her ear. Wisely, his first words are, “Please don’t knee me in the balls. I’m pretty fond of them.”

Lysandra grins, and Aelin laughs, pressing a kiss to Dorian’s lips that promises more. He turns those icy eyes on Lysandra.

“Hey, long time no see,” he greets the model. It isn’t surprising. Dorian knows everyone. Aelin smacks her not-boyfriend’s chest to get his attention, excitement in her eyes. Dorian gives her a big smile; he likes to see her happy and having a good time.

“This is my new best friend!” Aelin tells him happily. “We cried in the bathroom together.”

Dorian looks torn between being really concerned and laughing, “Alright then. What do you ladies say about heading upstairs for some peace and quiet?”

The women agree, and the Party Prince himself leads the way. They weave through the dancing people towards a staircase towards the back. It’s guarded by a pair of intimidating-looking men wearing all black and earpieces. Bouncers. One of the men gives Dorian a terse nod as they pass, but he and his companion make no attempts to speak with them.

Warning bells sound off in Aelin’s head again, but with Lysandra’s arm linked in hers, Aelin thinks they’ll both be okay. What could be so bad upstairs that isn’t already happening down here?

###  **Aelin Galathynius spotted on the town! Shop the look.**

Upstairs, the Rift keeps private rooms. As the trio pass an unmarked door, a woman moans loudly, wantonly, and the girls break into a fit of giggles. There’s no doubting what’s going down in _that_ room right now. Dorian glances over his shoulder at them with a wide grin, and he wiggles his brows, provoking more laughter.

“Look,” Aelin tells him as they near the end of the hallway. “If you think you’re about to talk Lys and me into banging you, I’m going to need more drugs.”

Lysandra laughs and leans her head on Aelin’s shoulder. “C’mon, you’d love a chance at getting me naked.”

“Sure,” Aelin admits. “But not with a guy there to ruin it.”

Lysandra throws her head back, laughing. Dorian scowls, but his eyes crinkle in that way that tells Aelin he’s amused by her antics, “I think the more, the merrier.”

Lysandra meets her eye, and the women look at each other. When they burst into cackles, Dorian frowns at them, kicking open the door behind him and holding it open for the ladies. He glares at them as they pass, saying, “Cruel, beautiful creatures.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius and Lysandra Ennar share selfie on Instagram. A new friendship in the making?**

The room is what she was expecting. Some of the men are familiar, Dorian’s cohorts; others, Aelin isn’t sure who they are, where they’re from. She shrugs it off, though; Dorian knows a lot of people. It comes with the territory of being the son of one of Doranelle’s most powerful men.

It’s a lifestyle that Aelin finds very familiar, and perhaps, it’s what drew her to Dorian Havilliard in the first place. Despite knowing the rumors surrounding him, despite being told all about the trouble that follows the _Party Prince_ , Aelin sees the playful man as a kindred spirit.

Aelin knows what it’s like to live in the shadows of great and successful parents. It comes with a lot of pressure and very little escape. The Galathynius name is an old name with old money and high expectations. While her parents were always very good at sheltering her from the family pressures, Aelin knows that skipping classes and joining a rock band was the last thing her grandparents wanted for her.

“I bet you’re used to this by now,” Lysandra whispers to Aelin. The blonde looks towards her new companion and notices how the model watches the gathering warily. From what Aelin can recall from the gossip mags that she’s not supposed to be reading anymore, Lys is new to all of this stardom.

Aelin tightens her grip on her friend, “Not particularly. I grew up schmoozing over twelve-course meals and hiding behind fake smiles.” She grins wryly, “Now the fake smile thing still works, but the twelve-course meal comes in the form of drugs and handsy men.” She looks thoughtful, adding, “Wait, that last part isn’t actually that different, either. Handsy men. No escaping the bastards.”

Lysandra laughs nervously, but some of the tension falls from the woman’s shoulders. She drops Aelin’s hand, and the singer misses the comforting contact immediately. Lysandra flashes her a well-practiced smile, “I’ll catch you on the other side then.”

Aelin salutes her, and Lysandra walks away, chuckling and wearing a brave face. Belatedly, Aelin realizes she forgot to get her phone number, but in the entertainment business, everyone’s phone number is up for grabs if you know who to ask.

###  **Doranelle’s club scene. Profitable or dangerous?**

Aelin and Dorian mingle for a while. Dorian’s ability to speak with strangers is seamless; Aelin never mastered the level of charisma that her companion has. She’s too brusque for that, according to Gavriel, too quick to say exactly what’s on her mind.

She feels it when the drugs start to leave her system. Suddenly everything looks dull, and Aelin starts to deflate. She doesn’t want to talk to these people anymore. She doesn’t want to be _here_ anymore at all.

Dorian doesn’t seem affected. A friend calls him away from the couch he’s snuggled into with Aelin, and as soon as he leaves her side, she begins to feel the anxiety kick in. Her sweet punishment. She manages to mingle for a little while longer without him, but it gets to be too much too quickly, and Aelin sneaks away from being the center of attention.

She never thought she’d say this, but sometimes Aelin doesn’t wish she were famous, wishes that people didn’t recognize who she was. She misses when she would try to get in a club as fancy as this, and the bouncers would turn Aelin away because she wasn’t important enough, just another rich heiress looking for a night of debauchery.

Aelin finds a quiet, abandoned corner and plops in the chair. She tries to distract herself with her phone, scrolling through social media, and responding to a few texts from the guys. Aedion is coming back soon; his deployment ends soon. Gods, Aelin is excited to see her cousin.

In the end, she finds herself staring at Rowan’s thread of text messages. The last text is from her, telling Rowan that the car was pulling to the curb.

Aelin wants to call him, see what he’s up to. She’d much rather be lounging on his couch and making fun of his shitty television choices right now. That sounds much more enjoyable than watching strangers do lines off of dirty club tables.

Because she hates herself, Aelin clicks to Rowan’s social media. Sure enough, his most recent Instagram photo is of Lyria. She’s ducking away from the camera laughing and trying to hide her face behind her sweater. Over a million likes.

###  **A man in love? Rowan Whitethorn shares rare picture of girlfriend.**

Aelin is so busy feeling sorry for herself that she doesn’t even notice the man approaching her. When he speaks, she nearly jumps out of her skin. Aelin shouts a string of expletives that would make Lorcan proud.

It impresses the stranger too. His smile is sharp, and it takes Aelin a second to place where she’s seen the man before. When she does, she feels silly; the red hair definitely should have tipped her off sooner. Arobynn Hamel, one of the most famous music producers in Wendlyn.

“You don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun,” the man purrs, still grinning. The hair on the back of Aelin’s neck stands up at the predatory glint in his eyes. “A place like this should be a lot of fun for a girl like you.”

Aelin gets defensive, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh now, no need to be offended,” Arobynn’s eyes sparkle with mischief. It makes her want to trust him without question. It makes her want to run for the hills. “Rumor has it you’re quite the regular around here.”

“Oh?” Aelin leans in, and there’s no missing how his eyes drop to her cleavage. “Then you’ve already heard about what a terrible bore I am and that you’re wasting your time?”

That sharp smile reappears, “Quite the opposite, really.”

Aelin sighs. Her head is starting to pound, and she always feels really, really grouchy when she comes down. The bad mood is imminent. “Look, I’m crashing right now, so I don’t really have the energy for the verbal warfare. Say whatever it is you need to say, and I’ll be sure to act appropriately in awe of all of your powerful white-male energy.”

Arobynn’s smile turns lethal. Maybe Aelin shouldn’t be pissing off one of the most powerful men in the music industry, but she doesn’t have it in her to _care_ anymore.

“You’re wasting your talent in that shitty rock band,” he tells her unapologetically. Aelin sits up a little straighter at his words, debating the pros and cons of getting into a brawl with some middle-aged man with an opinion.

“You could rule the music industry on your own,” Arobynn continues. Aelin is acutely aware of the eyes on them, nosy people watching another music deal go down. “It would be so easy. I could help you do it.”

“Well, if it’s easy, then why do I need your help?” Aelin raises a brow, challenging him. Her father’s always said that Aelin was impossible to work with, but she’s not sure that’s always such a bad thing, to be difficult. “Maybe my _shitty rock band_ and I will rule the industry just fine our own. Without you.”

The man makes a show of drinking in her appearance, and then he shrugs, declining to answer her question. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he tells her, tossing something onto the table in front of her.

She makes a face at him, and Arobynn’s smile reaches his eyes now. Aelin finds it fucking creepy. “To hold off the crash,” he explains, and then he walks away.

###  **Arobynn Hamel, the force behind some of music’s biggest hits.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve rewritten this one like a thousand times. We’re just going to go with it, I think. 
> 
> Warnings for depictions of drug abuse.

###  **Dorian Havilliard and Aelin Galathynius, Party Prince found Princess?**

The dripping of the faucet sounds like a bass drum. Aelin can hear it all the way from her bedroom with the door ajar. She spent an hour the other day trying to fix it, but she only made it worse, made the sound louder. Aelin usually calls Rowan to fix things, but he isn’t talking to her right now.

Dorian’s breathing fans her shoulder like the strum of a guitar. A solid chord, no plucking of the strings. It’s the rhythm guitar; Aelin’s lazy playing of the instrument while she sings for enjoyment and not performance. It joins the faucet-drum beat, and Aelin can hear the piano singing along.

That’s not right, Aelin thinks. Pianos don’t sing, not technically. They only form words in that way that one recognizes the words within a melody, but Aelin’s baby grand sits in the living room, calling her name.

Dorian grumbles a weak protest as she gets out of the bed, but Aelin follows the sound of the piano, as alluring as a siren’s call. The lights of the city are warped, and Aelin can feel them as they bounce around the apartment in the early morning quiet. She’s been up all night.

Aelin takes a seat at the piano. She stares at it for a long while before hitting a key. Words come out instead of notes. It’s fascinating. She presses another arrangement of notes. G flat. More words. More.

“A, what are you doing?” Dorian grumbles from the doorway of her bedroom. He rubs his face and squints his eyes in the golden light, a disco ball to Aelin’s eyes. “It’s 5 am.”

“Writing,” she tells him impatiently. What else does it look like she’s doing? The piano tells her the keys to hit, but it spills out words instead of chords.

“Babe, come to bed,” he groans, rubbing at his face. “It’s early. You just need to sleep it off.”

“Can’t sleep,” Aelin insists. “Gotta write. They need me to write. Can’t you hear it?”

Concern shines in Dorian’s eyes, but Aelin only notices it, doesn’t recognize it for its face value. His eyes are made of crystals. Beautiful.

“Aelin,” he begins carefully. The piano screams over him, distracting her from listening. Dorian takes her face in his hands, and Aelin tries to shrug him off. “Hey, look at me. What did you take?”

She peels herself from his grasp, leaving the piano and heading for the wall of instruments. One of Rowan’s Fenders sparkles in the lights, and Aelin takes it off the wall to play it. Dorian follows after her.

“Aelin, what did you take?” He repeats. Aelin ignores him only because she doesn’t hear him. She’s listening to the guitar now. It sounds like a choir.

###  **Who is Vaughan Phillips? More on The Cadre’s elusive bassist.**

“Aelin,” Dorian hasn’t left her side since he’s woken up. He tried to get Aelin to give him the guitar, but when she freaked out, he gave in. Instead, he watched. A cautious audience without any understanding of the marvels happening in front of him. Only Aelin could see it, hear it, feel it.

“I’m going to fail,” she murmurs to herself, tossing the guitar to the side at last. It’s like hitting a wall. Everything falls to pieces. “Everyone wants me to.”

Dorian runs a hand down her back in reassurance. Aelin’s lip trembles with emotion as he tells her, “You’re not going to fail. You’re going to kick ass. Like always.”

“You want me to fail,” Aelin accuses, turning an untrusting gaze on Dorian.

His eyes are wide with surprise, but Dorian remains calm, “A, that’s the drug talking. No one wants you to fail.”

She waves him off, “You’re not listening to me. Everyone hates me. _Everyone wants me to fail._ ”

Aelin picks up the guitar she left on the couch and starts to pluck at the strings. Yet, Dorian stops her, taking the instrument from her despite her protests. Everything is red; the faucet drips it. The black varnish on the piano has turned crimson.

“Stop bothering me, Dor, I—“

He cups her face with his hands, and for the first time ever, Dorian looks truly worried, “Aelin, I need you to tell me what you took.”

“No,” she insists, pulling away from him. Aelin rubs her face furiously. Nothing makes sense. Why is Dorian trying to stop her? “I need to write. I’m supposed to write.”

Then it clicks. Aelin jabs a finger into his chest and accuses, “ _You_ don’t like me. That’s why you won’t let me play. _You want me to fail_.”

“Aelin—“

“Get out!” She screams, sudden and unexpected. Dorian jumps when she shouts at him. “Get out and leave me alone!”

###  **Rowan Whitethorn, girlfriend Lyria, spotted out for breakfast.**

Everything turns from shades of gold to murky greys. Aelin doesn’t hear the music anymore; everything is screaming at her. She’ll never write anything as good as what she’s already written. It’s over. She’s let everyone down.

Aelin knows what she is to people; she’s entertainment, a commodity. It’s why Dorian lets her follow him around like a lost puppy, content to keep her now that Rowan’s set her aside; it’s how all of the people—all of those _fans_ waiting in the street below— see her. It’s all they want from her.

What’s going to happen when they all find out she’s lost the magic? What are the people in the street going to think when there’s no more music? One album in and Aelin is already all dried up. Worthless. A failure.

Even Rowan’s disappointed in her, by her. It’s why he won’t text her back, doesn’t care that she’s called; he’s not coming. He doesn’t care. He’s mad at her.

She failed. Failed. Failed. Failed.

###  **_Moonbeams_ , the Youtube channel created by twins, Fenrys and Connall.**

Aelin is crumpled on the kitchen floor when her front door opens again. That doesn’t make sense; she locked the door behind Dorian, despite his protests. No one can get in here. She doesn’t want them to.

“I’m not a failure,” she mumbles to herself on repeat.

Voices speak to each other low and rough, but Aelin can barely hear them over the chanting in her mind. The choir tells her she’s a failure, that nothing she writes will ever live up to what she’s already written. She’s peaked. A one-hit-wonder. She’s let everyone down.

“Am not. Am not. Am not,” Aelin rocks back and forth, head between her knees and arms across the top of her head. The piano is mean; she doesn’t like it anymore, wants to throw it out. At least she got the guitar to be quiet.

“Ace,” a deep, familiar voice calls her name. It’s filled with concern, but she doesn’t know why they would be so worried. The voice repeats itself, calling her name from far away and close by at the same time, “Aelin.”

“Everyone hates me,” she says, shaking her head and watching the floor. She’s afraid when she looks up that she’ll see more hatred in this person’s eyes. “They all hate me. I’m a failure.”

The voice makes a noise of distress, “Aelin, look at me.”

“I failed,” Aelin rocks back and forth. Everything is so loud, and that stupid fucking piano won’t stop _talking to her_.

A warm hand pries her fingers away from her hair, and Rowan’s face comes into focus as he takes her by the chin and forces Aelin to look him in the eye. His green eyes are dark with worry and something else. Over his shoulder, Lyria watches with wide, worried eyes. Dorian lingers at the doorway like a scolded child.

Even in the panic, Aelin can see the way Rowan’s jaw clenches as he realizes just how bad everything’s gotten, as he realizes what he’s suspected is true. Aelin went off the rails pretty quickly, and while she’s the only one who knows why, Rowan probably wishes he’d noticed the signs sooner.

But while Rowan was snuggled on the couch with Lyria, Aelin was partying with Dorian. Their fight was a couple of weeks ago, each too stubborn to be the first to apologize. He’s made at Aelin for partying, and she’s made at Rowan for—well, she’s just _so fucking mad at him_.

Rowan’s eyes are dark, and his voice is nothing more than a growl as he turns his attention on Dorian, “What the fuck did you give her?”

Dorian looks offended, “ _Give her?_ Shit man, this is all Aelin. She must’ve taken something else last night when I wasn’t looking. X doesn’t last this long.”

“The man gave it to me,” Aelin explains. She can’t remember his name right now, but she remembers the hair. Red like blood. A smile made of knives.

Dorian goes pale. Rowan looks horrified, “Who gave what to you?”

“He gave it to me to make me feel better,” Aelin frowns. “I don’t feel better. I can’t write music anymore, and the piano won’t stop making fun of me—”

“You weren’t watching her?” Rowan snarls at Dorian. “You take her out to those fucking clubs and get her high, and _you don’t keep an eye on her?”_

“She’s an adult,” Dorian explains. “I can’t help it if—”

Rowan loses it. Aelin watches with wide eyes as her friend rushes Dorian and grabs him by the collar of his jacket, lifting the man to his toes with hardly any effort. Lyria cries her boyfriend’s name; the piano laughs.

Aelin croaks for them to stop, but the words barely make it out of her throat.

“Look,” Rowan seethes at the smaller man. He shakes Dorian for emphasis, “You might not have much of a life to fucking throw away, but she does. And if she keeps wasting her time with you, she’s going to lose everything. So, this is me telling you to stay the _fuck_ away from her, before I have to kick your ass, got it?”

Aelin is kneeling on the floor; her vision spins as she watches the men. Dorian’s crystal eyes are wide, and Aelin doubts anyone’s ever dared to lay a hand on him before, the Party Prince, son of a powerful man who owns a lot of beautiful, talented people.

Lyria whispers Rowan’s name from Aelin’s side; she doesn’t know when the other woman got there.

Rowan shakes Dorian when he still doesn’t speak, “Did you fucking hear me or not?”

Dorian nods lamely. Lyria abandons Aelin to pry Dorian out of her boyfriend’s grasp. Rowan doesn’t look very inclined to release the man, but his girlfriend gets him to let go. Dorian sways on his feet and looks to Aelin.

“I’ve already called a doctor,” Dorian tells them. Aelin doesn’t know what they need a doctor for. Everything is fine. “I was counting on you having a key so we could get back in.”

Rowan clenches his jaw, but it’s Lyria that speaks first. Her voice is warning; Aelin didn’t think she could sound stern.

“I think you should leave now.” A pause. “Please.”

Dorian leaves, and Lyria forces Aelin to drink some water. Rowan tries to convince her that no one hates her. He reminds her that she took something, and it’s messing with her head. Aelin tells him that her head is messed up. That’s the problem.

###  **Who is Yrene Towers, and what is concierge medicine?**

Aelin wakes up to a pair of familiar eyes. They look just like her own, and it takes her a moment to make sense of this. Her parents left for a cruise the day that she and Dorian went to the Rift. What’s her mother doing in her apartment?

It takes a second for the rest of the face she’s looking at to come into focus. It’s aged since the last time she saw it. There’s scruff where there used to be fresh, young skin, and the shoulder-length hair has been shaved away for the sake of conformity.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” her cousin drawls.

“What are you doing here?” Aelin is confused. Last she checked, she had a few more days before his flight landed. Aedion isn’t supposed to be here already. Did something happen?

“I got into town yesterday,” he explains, and Aelin raises her brow. “I’m not early, Ace. You’ve been out of it for the last couple of days.”

Days? That can’t be right. Aelin sits up in the bed and groans. She feels as if someone ran her over. Fucking hell. She took some bad shit.

“We thought it was an acid trip,” Aedion explains, voice hard. The lack of emotion tells her that Aedion’s trying hard not to blow up. That Ashryver temper is a bitch. “But the doctor thinks you actually took something else. Wyrd, she called it. Some new shit on the streets.”

“Fuck,” Aelin swears, running her fingers through her hair. She winces as it snags. “That fucking sucked.”

Aedion laughs harshly. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with? It _sucked_?”

Aelin gapes at him in surprise.

“You fucking lost it, Aelin,” he snaps, scratching at his short hair in exasperation. He motions to the far wall of her bedroom.

“Nice redecorating,” he remarks as Aelin drinks in the strange drawings. “I like what you’ve done with the place, but your mom is going to _freak_ when she sees it.”

“Aedion,” she starts, but her cousin stops her.

“So, you owe Rowan a new guitar,” Aedion shakes his head in disbelief. “Just an FYI. It turns out you snapped that green Fender of his in half. You said it _wouldn’t stop talking to you_.”

“Shit,” she breathes. Rowan fucking loved that guitar. “I’m such a fuck up.”

“Yeah,” Aedion agrees readily. It bothers her that he didn’t try to soften the blow. “I’m not going to give you the drugs lecture or whatever because I like to think this experience is enough.”

His Ashryver eyes turn to hers, pleading, “Please, let this be enough.”

###  **_Shallow_ to take home song of the year award?**

Aelin is definitely feeling more human after her shower, even if the world seems a little dimmer after having witnessed the wonders of her hallucinations. Because that’s what they were, hallucinations. Aelin took some bad shit because she was a fucking idiot, and she had a bad trip.

Arobynn Hamel better watch out for the next time he crosses paths with Aelin. She’ll fucking kill him if she ever sees him again. She’s pissed as hell, but most of all, she’s pissed at herself.

Rowan’s busted guitar sits in the corner of the living room. A heavy pang of guilt hits Aelin at the sight, even as she remembers the taunting of the instrument, the way it told her she’d never amount to anything. He loved that fucking guitar, and she murdered it. Maybe she could get it fixed for him, beg forgiveness with it, and about a thousand bags of Skittles—Rowan’s one true weakness.

“Rowan, what are we still doing here?” a gentle voice asks. Aelin pauses her trek towards the kitchen. She’s fucking starving, but as it would seem, the kitchen is already occupied.

Pots and pans bang. Rowan’s voice swears softly about Aelin’s complete lack of organization.

“Aedion’s here now. We should go before we overstay our welcome,” Lyria insists.

Aelin’s stomach sours at the memories flashing behind her eyes. Rowan brought his girlfriend; she witnessed all of it. Aelin doesn’t feel shame very often, but it burns her cheeks now as she remembers Lyria and another woman stripping her of her clothes and forcing her to take a shower.

“Aedion just got off a twelve-hour flight,” Rowan explains himself. “And Aelin… They need food, so I’m cooking.”

“Row…” Lyria begins. A pot sets upon the counter a little too heavily, and she reconsiders whatever she was going to say.

Rowan’s voice is firm when he speaks again. Aelin doesn’t need to see him to be able to imagine the stubbornness in his eyes, “Don’t. Don’t make this into a thing. Aelin isn’t okay, and I can’t do…” A heavy sigh, and the audible click of her gas stove turning on in the silence. “I can make her something to eat. That’s what I can do. That’s what I’m doing, Lyria.”

The other woman doesn’t say anything, but Lyria must make a face. Rowan speaks again, impatiently. “She’s my family, L,” there’s a warning there, hiding between his words. Aelin’s eyes sting with tears, “We fight, but we’re family. You can be in the family, too, if you’re willing to forgive a little.”

“Sometimes,” Lyria begins carefully, and Aelin knows she won’t like what she hears next. “Sometimes, family members can be toxic, and you have to let them go.”

Silence. Aelin turns on her heels and heads back for her room. She refuses to come out, despite both Aedion and Rowan’s pleading. She can’t face them, she decides. Aelin can already imagine everyone's’ disappointed faces.

Maybe the hallucinations weren’t too far off, and she is a failure, is only capable of letting people down. Maybe the band is better off without her. Perhaps Rowan is, too.

###  **The Cadre’s publicist assures fans, says frontwoman only had “a touch of the flu.”**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but all my brain wants to write is this! I also have two half-finished prompts, but my brain gave up.

###  **Dorian Havilliard spotted at Mistward alone, a break up so soon?**

Her Uncle Gavriel sits across the table from Aelin wearing his signature frown. It’s really tempting to distract from her problems and point out that Aedion is wearing the same expression, but something tells Aelin that that wouldn’t go over well. Instead, she and her cousin sit in silence, waiting.

“Dorian Sr. said to tell you he’s happy you’re feeling better,” Gavriel begins. The choice of words is pointed, and Aelin flinches. Yeah, she fucked up, but isn’t it a little hypocritical to judge her for something his son gets into every night?

Aedion’s eyes narrow in Gavriel’s direction. They don’t have the best relationship. Aedion was always closer to his mother, and he was raised by Aelin’s parents after her death. Gavriel was always on the road, helping his talent navigate the harrowing world of stardom. Something he’s supposed to be doing for his niece now.

“Just say what you came here to say, man,” Aedion orders, arms crossed across his chest. Gavriel’s sigh is long-suffering. “No need to play more fucking mind games.”

“He won’t sue for a breach of contract,” Gavriel informs Aelin. Her shoulders sag with relief, but she’s not in the clear yet. There’s always a “but” with these people. Her uncle’s eyes are somber. “You’re lucky he thinks you can make him more money in a recording studio than you can in a courtroom.”

“He can suck my dick for all I care,” Aelin responds. 

Aedion looks torn between laughing and scolding her.

“Should I pass that message along then?” Gavriel challenges, irritated. Aelin raises her brow back at him in a challenge. He won’t, of course, but he’s upset with her. Everyone is.

It’s that thought that gets Aelin to stand down first. “No,” she sighs, running her fingers through her blue-stained hair.

“Good,” Gavriel nods once. Then he adds, “Now go make nice with your band and create some music before that asshole changes his mind.”

Aelin cringes, “Easier said than done.”

###  **The Cadre’s _Noisy Neighbors_ acoustic session and interview.**

Aelin’s scratching words to paper when Rowan reappears at the apartment later. He lets himself in, wisely anticipating that she’d ignore the door if he knocked. She’s pretty sure that Dorian came by earlier, but she wasn’t willing to find out. If it was him, the man sure gave up quickly and left. Aelin might be better off apart from him; perhaps, she should just let things die out.

She expected rumors to fly; she just wasn’t ready for how cruel they’d be. Aelin’s mother called her in a panic, and no matter how Aelin tried to console her parents, they decided to end their vacation early. They’d be home soon. Aelin felt awful, but also, she felt irritated. Where was everyone while she was having a damn meltdown?

Rowan doesn’t say anything as he takes the seat beside her. He makes himself at home in the quiet apartment, watching the television on mute; he’s waiting.

When the words run out, Aelin heaves a deep sigh. Rowan’s eyes slide her way, and she meets them with a grimace, handing over the notebook. He takes it from her without comment, flipping through the pages, and skimming the words. She tries not to let her heart race, but music is personal, even with Rowan. The person she’s always shared it with. He’s never judged her before, but there’s a first time for everything, so she’s learned.

Rowan lingers on a song she’s worked on the longest. His mouth forms a hard line as he reads the lyrics and then rereads them. Every part has been crossed out and rewritten in some way or another. Some words Aelin traced over, again and again until the paper nearly tore, but it’s finished now, she thinks.

It’s their next big hit if her instinct is to be believed.

“Is this what you think of yourself?” he asks quietly as last, looking at her with worry. With love. It stings, and she has to look away from him.

Aelin shrugs rather than speak. She’s not sure she trusts her voice right now.

Rowan takes a deep breath, running in hands through his hair. His voice is so soft, so kind and gentle, when he speaks next, “You’re not a nightmare, Ace.”

“Sure as fuck feels that way sometimes, though,” her voice shakes when she speaks. Aelin crosses her arms in front of herself, feeling exposed. “Doesn’t it?”

“Nah. Don’t get me wrong. You’re definitely a pain in the ass,” he breathes a laugh, and Aelin punches him in the arm in reflex. They share a watery smile. “But you’re not a nightmare, Aelin. You couldn’t be the farthest thing from it.”

“Thanks,” Aelin tells him. She doesn’t know how to tell him how badly she needed to hear those words. “For coming to my rescue, I mean.”

Rowan stills beside her, face void of emotion.

“And for the pasta,” Aelin says to lighten the mood, obviously a deflection. Two steps forward and three steps back. “Aedion ate most of it, but I’ve pretty much been living off the rest of it the last few days.”

Rowan nods, waiting. Yet, Aelin doesn’t know what else to say.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Rowan tells her through a grim smile. Aelin’s eyes burn with tears. “Preferably before you go and accept drugs from strangers, yeah?”

Aelin wipes the tears from the corners of her eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“You scared the shit out me, Aelin. When Dorian called—fuck, I about lost it,” Rowan rubs at his face. “I knew something was up with you, but I didn’t know how to ask you about it, how to get you to talk to me. I just thought—I guess I thought, I hoped, you’d come to me yourself. That’s on me, though. Not you.”

“You were busy,” Aelin explains to him, shrugging. “Everyone’s busy. I didn’t want to bother anyone with my stupid insecurities.”

“I think I speak for myself and the rest of the guys,” Rowan decides, a gentle expression on his face, “that none of us are ever too busy for you, Ace. You’re our family, and we care.”

“Fuck,” Aelin hisses, rubbing at her eyes again. She laughs, “if we keep talking like this, I’m definitely going to cry.”

Rowan’s smile is weak. “Let me up the ante then,” he says. “You’re my best fucking friend, Ace, and if something were to happen to you, I don’t know what—”

Aelin throws herself into him before Rowan can finish, sniffling. Rowan chuckles, but the sound is strained like he’s trying to keep from crying too. His arms wrap around her, and Aelin buries her face into his chest. She’s missed this. Him. Their friendship.

They stay like that for a while, falling into silence after the tears and apologies fade away. Rowan doesn’t lessen his hold on her, and Aelin isn’t motivated to pull away either.

“Arobynn Hamel,” she tells him at last, earning a curious expression. Yeah, Aelin guesses that does kind of seem like it came out of nowhere. “The guy that gave me that Wyrd shit. It was Arobynn Hamel, which fucking serves me right.”

Rowan’s face darkens, “You were partying with him?”

“I was partying with a lot of people,” Aelin admits. “I only remember some of them.”

“That guy is bad news, Ace,” he tells her. He doesn’t have to tell her twice. Arobynn was creepy; she plans to stay away from him. Aelin tells Rowan as much.

“Good,” Rowan seems pleased by the decision. He stands up and grabs a guitar from a stand. She sees right through him. Her best friend can only handle so much emotion-sharing at once; he’s looking for a segue into something a little easier. They’ve always connected better through music than talking anyway.

Aelin sent the Fender off to the guitar doctor. The prognosis wasn’t terrible, but a man with a lot of hair went on and on about disrespecting such a beautiful instrument. Its presence is missed on her wall; a constant reminder of her mistakes.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here, huh?” He strums the guitar once, scowling at Aelin’s terrible tuning of the instrument. Aelin cackles despite herself, wiping residual tears from her eyes.

“Ace, you’re an award-winning musician and an incredible songwriter,” Rowan sings her praise, and she beams at him. “But, you cannot tune a guitar to save your fucking life.”

“Well, that’s what I have you for, Buzzard.” That earns Aelin a smile that makes her feel warm and happy. “Whatever would I do without you?”

“You’re fucking telling me,” he mumbles more to himself than her.

###  **The Cadre’s social media gets a facelift—a sign of a new album era?**

In light of the speculation surrounding their frontwoman, The Cadre agrees to do one of those Youtube acoustic sessions that are so popular these days. Aelin is nervous, which is crazy because these are her best friends. They’ve seen her at her worse—some more so than others now.

Still, at the sight of Rowan warming up on the guitar, Aelin’s stomach plummets. Things have fallen back to normal between them, texting nonstop, writing music through late-night phone calls, and studio sessions with the band.

Still, Aelin doesn’t dare to bring up the conversation that she overheard between Lyria and Rowan in her kitchen on that terrible day. Aelin’s been keeping her distance from the woman lately, lying low. It’s been a while since she was last at that shitty apartment, a place that was once more of a home to Aelin than her own.

“Hey,” she says. Rowan looks up in surprise, and his fingers trip over the notes he was playing, caught off guard. Rowan’s green eyes miss nothing. He looks her over carefully, missing nothing, checking for visible and invisible injuries alike.

“You look good,” is what he settles for, and Aelin chuckles, tugging at her leather pants for lack of anything else to do. Despite all of the contact, they haven’t spent much time alone together since their heart-to-heart.

“Thanks.” She gestures at the clothes she’s wearing, adding wryly, “Lysandra helped me pick out my outfit. It took four hours.”

He raises an unimpressed brow, “You’re wearing a plain, white t-shirt, Ace.”

Aelin’s grin is wicked, “Exactly.”

Rowan’s laugh rumbles through the studio, breaking the tension between them. Aelin is caught up in watching him when an arm wraps around her head and pulls her back into a broad chest, strangling her with love and affection. Aelin already knows who it is.

“Galathynius!” Lorcan shouts into her ear, ignoring her protest. If he fucks up her makeup, she’s going to be so pissed at him. “Where the fuck have you been hiding?”

They all know, of course. Each bandmate has wandered through her apartment once or twice over the last few weeks. The only ones she really talked it over with were Rowan and Fenrys. Lorcan tried, but by then, she was too exhausted emotionally. He aided her in the art form that was a distraction, and they shit talked their way through a new series on Netflix in one sitting.

“Let me go, you bastard!” she complains.

His laughter shakes his chest. Aelin can feel it pinned against him as she struggles to be released. Lorcan lets her go eventually, but the twins come in from either side and capture her in a bear hug of their own.

“What the hell is this?” she grumbles, even as her smile hurts her face. “Fuck up Aelin’s hair day?”

They let her go, and Fenrys makes a show of straightening out her hair. Vaughan claps her on the shoulder once as he passes, and Aelin chuckles. To think she was nervous about seeing everyone.

“Alright,” someone calls. “We’re live in one hour!”

“Holy shit,” Aelin swears, and Lorcan’s laughter barks out into the room. It’s been a while since they were live in front of people. She always freaks out before a show, and apparently, that doesn’t change for performances without audiences.

“Everyone into place for the screen test!”

The interviewer is a perky redheaded thing that smiles big at the sight of them. Aelin hops up onto her stool to start the interview, and she immediately blurts out. “Where the fuck did you get those shoes? I need them!”

“Focus, Ace,” Rowan’s dry voice comes from behind her. The twins snicker.

“I am focused,” she insists. “On her _shoes_.”

###  **The Cadre reflects on their sudden rise to fame.**

“You have a beautiful singing voice,” the interviewer tells Rowan. Aelin turns around to shoot her best friend an _I told you so_ look. Their bandmates chuckle. “Can we expect more duets on this next album?”

Rowan makes his Disapproving Dad Face. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Aw,” the woman laughs with that perfected charisma people get from talking to famous strangers all of the time. “Well, on behalf of the viewers, I’d just like to say that we’d love to hear you sing more.”

“Thank you!” Aelin cries, gesturing wildly. She loses balance with the waving of her arms and squeals. Lorcan grabs her chair with practiced grace, anchoring it to the ground with a boot.

“Phew, close call,” Aelin says, battling off the blush. She always fucking does this, but only when there’s a camera nearby to capture it and save it for eternity.

“Aelin doesn’t sit still very well,” Connall supplies from his spot to her right. Fenrys practically vibrates with the need to burst into laughter.

“An excellent segue,” Lorcan says, cutting off the interviewer. They’ve collectively decided they don’t like her prying questions. It’s a code they’ve mastered after years of friendship. “Let’s play a few songs, shall we?”

###  **The Cadre announces their sophomore album, _Hell of a Night._**

“So, I heard you guys have a surprise for us,” the interviewer starts. There’s no missing the way her eyes dart back and forth between Rowan and Aelin. The singer cringes internally. No wonder things are always so weird between her and Lyria. Aelin would get fucking weird too if people kept implying her boyfriend was fucking his bandmate.

“We’re going to play our new single,” Vaughan says passively, taking his turn at running interference. “Why don’t you tell us what it’s called, Ace?”

Aelin cracks that wicked smile of hers, “Nightmares.”

“Would you like to share a little bit about the song?” The woman asks not unkindly, excited at the chance to get an exclusive on the band’s new songs. Aelin has to remind herself that she’s only doing her job. “What is it about?”

“It’s about being a woman,” she says matter of factly.

The interviewer nods, but Aelin isn’t sure she’s really listening, “Oh, like, being a woman in the rock industry, you mean?”

“No,” Aelin shakes her head. “It’s just about being a woman.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius describes herself as a _Nightmare_ in new song.**

The studio is deathly silent as the lights fade to the music setting. Aelin asked for purples and reds, as dim a lighting as possible without losing the ability to be seen. It’s similar to parts of her hallucinations, the bits and pieces she can recall. She hasn’t told anyone, but she thinks Rowan might have seen through her, especially as the music starts. He always does.

The music starts loud and fast, and Aelin sings.

> _I, I keep a record of the wreckage of my life,_
> 
> _I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind,_
> 
> _They talk shit, but I love it every time,_
> 
> _And I realize—_

It’s the first time they’ve played the song for anyone, but Aelin can feel the magic as they perform. Gavriel looks pleased from where he hides behind the monitors. The camera crew is nodding along to the music, so Aelin thinks that’s a good sign too.

The music slows for a moment, and the cameras do what they always do and focus on her. It’s taken Aelin a while to get the hang of filming, but she thinks she’s figured it since their first television performance two years ago. She makes eye contact with the camera, pretending that she’s definitely not looking into the souls of a bunch of fucking people sitting at home.

> _“Come on, little lady, give us a smile,”_
> 
> _No, I ain’t got nothin’ to smile about,_
> 
> _I got no one to smile for, I waited a while for,_
> 
> _A moment to say I don’t owe you a goddamn thing!_

The band’s volume increases, and Aelin sings on.

###  **The Cadre performing _Nightmare,_ live now!**

If the people who know her personally haven’t figured it out, yet. They probably do as the lights turn entirely red, as the music quiets, and Aelin sings the final lines of the song. It’s where the album title came from. 

It’s pretty personal, these lines that earned her a few looks from her bandmates, from Rowan, from Aedion. The latter has tried to talk to her since she woke up from her trip, but Aelin hasn’t felt very inclined to share with her cousin, not after his attitude that horrible morning.

> _I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night,_
> 
> _That I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night._

The music fades to nothing, the final notes of Rowan’s playing disappearing into the dark. Aelin holds for effect, before looking to Rowan. There’s a certain light that always pops up in his eyes when he’s performing. It’s beautiful. He hates all the attention, but he loves music.

They share a nod, and Aelin turns towards the camera, saying her thanks. The woman—Aelin’s totally failed to remember her name for this entire interview—joins them on the stage with a smile and speaks to the audience.

Today’s the day. The start of another album year. There’ll be a tour and meet and greets and a shit ton of travel, but Aelin is excited. She can handle anything as long as she has her band at her back.

###  **Watch The Cadre perform their new single _Nightmare_ now!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always wanted Halsey’s Nightmare to be remade as a rock song. So, here it is, even if it’s only in my head.


	8. Chapter 8

###  **The Cadre adds dates to their _Hell of a Night_ tour.**

Aelin really doesn’t like touring. It’s something she remembers about halfway through their trek across Wendlyn. It’s brutal and time-consuming, and her mother’s never called her more in her 23 years of life than she does now, following Aelin’s unfortunate trip down the rabbit hole of partying and drugs.

She’s clean, she’s quick to remind her mother, but Evalin Galathynius isn’t ready to forget that Aelin was in trouble— _could have died_ are the words she uses.

“Geeze, mom,” Aelin scoffs, kicking at the curb at some rest stop in the middle of who knows where. “Drama Queen much?”

“Well, you had to get it from somewhere,” her mother remarks, unperturbed. She sighs, “I wish you would have stuck to the limited tour dates that Gavriel suggested. It would’ve been easier for you and—”

“Look, I’m not some unstable addict, okay?” Aelin snaps, and Rowan eyes her curiously from his perch on the curb, soaking in the summer rays while they wait on the rest of the band. They’re relatively safe here, in the middle of nowhere. At least no one’s recognized them yet.

“Yes, honey. I know, I just—”

“I’m a fuck up,” Aelin cuts off her mother, “and I do shit I’m not supposed to, but I’ve got it covered.” Later, she’ll feel bad for being so defensive towards her mom. “I don’t need you hovering. I’m an adult.”

“I guess it does make me feel better that you have Rowan with you,” Evalin adds. Aelin knows her mother is just trying to help, but it gets on Aelin’s nerves that the task of _taking care of Aelin_ always falls to Rowan. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me, Mom,” Aelin pleads, knowing she sounds like a child. She sighs and tries to recollect herself. “Just—Look, the guys are coming back, and I need to go, okay? Talk to you later.”

Aelin hangs up to her mother’s protests, and Rowan arches a brow in silent question. She glares at her friend, challenging him to say something. He always takes her mother’s side, which is just unfair. And not cool.

Rowan raises his hands in surrender, saying, “You scared the shit out of her, Ace. And she was a worry-wort before all of this.”

Aelin feels guilty immediately. She sighs and flops onto the curb beside him. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Buzzard.”

“I’m always on your side,” Rowan says without question. He tilts his head back, and with his face leaning back into the rays of sunshine, he looks like some kind of Roman God. “But I also know where she’s coming from.”

“Is that your way of telling me you’re worried about me?” Aelin asks softly, watching him from the corner of her vision. She doesn’t know if how she’ll take it if he agrees with Aelin’s mother.

Rowan mirrors her, both watching the other without really look at each other. “All of the time,” he cracks a grin before Aelin’s grief can set in. “Even more so because I think it’s been like three months since I’ve seen you eat a fucking carrot.”

“Carrots are gross,” she remarks instantly. Rowan scoffs at her, flicking her nose, and Aelin scowls at him. “Oh, and just for that, I’m not going to share the Skittles I found at the last stop with you.”

Rowan’s never looked so offended in his life, “Wait—you found some? And you didn’t tell me?”

He’s been hunting for some for days, and Aelin may have found some at the last stop, while Rowan was too tired to dream of getting off the bus.

“I was going to surprise you,” Aelin says haughtily, standing from the curb and heading for the bus. “Though, now I think I’m going to eat them with Lor. Later, Buzzard.”

###  **Rowan Whitethorn reveals his favorite snack on Instagram.**

The band is singing a cover of _Teenage Dirtbag_. It’s only possible to sing the same songs so many times, and The Cadre’s always loved to play this song. The guys relate to it far more than Aelin, the trouble-maker heiress, ever could, but she still enjoys it, has fun performing it.

Aelin kneels down towards the front row, singing the chorus and reaching for the fans. The security team fucking hates it when she does this, but Aelin remembers precisely how it felt to get to touch hands with her favorite artists growing up.

She makes eye contact with a young blonde girl wearing black lipstick, and it’s like looking into a mirror that shows her the past. Aelin points at her, and they scream the words together.

> _Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby,_
> 
> _Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby—_

And then it all happens so fast.

Aelin rises to her feet, turning and heading for stage left when some grabs her ankle and holds fast. She stumbles, foot pulled out from beneath her without warning, and she lands on knees. Aelin rolls over instinctively, kicking to get the man to let go over her. A member of security is there in an instant, yanking the audience member by his collar and freeing Aelin.

It’s over as quickly as it starts.

> _Oh yeah, dirtbag,_
> 
> _No, she doesn’t know what she’s missing…_

How Aelin doesn’t lose her place is beyond her. She hops up to her feet, recovering as quickly as she can. Rowan is there, murder in his eyes, and he’s only half paying attention to what he plays on the guitar. There’s a benefit to having an excess amount of bandmates; there’s always someone there to pick up the slack.

Rowan’s sole focus is the man being dragged away by security, but Aelin doesn’t want to ruin to show, doesn’t want this to become more of a thing that it already will be here in the age of the internet. She places one hand on his chest and backs him up from the edge of the stage, doesn’t let go of him until Rowan makes eye contact, and then Aelin’s back to business.

> _How does she know who I am?_
> 
> _And why does she give a damn about me?_

“C’mon!” she cries to the audience. “Let me hear you sing it!”

The crowd screams and Aelin leads them along:

> _I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden Baby…_

###  **Close call: fan grabs The Cadre frontwoman during last night’s performance.**

“What the fuck is wrong with people?” Lysandra screams when Aelin comes off the stage at the end of the show. She’s absolutely dying of thirst, so much so that she just shrugs her shoulders at her friend and downs the nearest bottle of water. She’s not even sure it’s hers.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Lorcan hisses in agreement, even Vaughan seems inclined to agree. “What’s with people thinking they can just _fucking grab_ a person?”

“Ace,” Rowan asks, voice hoarse from singing. He’s her backup vocals, but Aelin’s wearing him down on the duet thing. There’s an idea in her head; she just has to get him on board. “You good?”

“Fucking fantastic,” Aelin tells him, crunching the empty water bottle in her hand. She’s actually pretty pissed, and based upon the hard set of Rowan’s jaw, he knows it. “Let’s get through the encore without a brawl, and then go get fucking wasted.”

Fenrys howls with delight, Connall barking. Gods, she’s surrounded by fucking cavemen.

Aelin makes eye contact with Lysandra, who wiggles her eyebrows, wearing that sinister smile. “I’m personally not opposed to watching a bunch of hot, sweaty men get into a fight, Ace. Maybe you should reconsider.”

Lorcan winks, and Aelin scowls at her female friend, “Please, for the love of all that is holy, do _not_ encourage them.”

###  **The Cadre out on the town in Varese, post-show.**

The words come to Aelin in the middle of the night. She’s supposed to be sleeping; they’ve another show here in town tomorrow night. Yet, all Aelin can do is stare at the ceiling, her mind running a mile a minute. A litany of music in her head. 

She has to go and hide in the bathroom to avoid waking Lys up. Her friend is curled up in the bed like a cat, sleeping soundly after a night of partying with the band. The model clicked effortlessly within the group, a puzzle piece no one noticed was missing. Aelin was glad.

Still, when Lys offered Aelin the chance to sleep in a real bed and not on the bus with the guys, she jumped at it. Ladies Night, Lysandra declared it, and Aelin wasn’t going to disagree with her. As much as she loves her boys, sometimes Aelin just needed a break.

She’ll be sad to part ways with her. Lysandra has some work back in Doranelle, and the Cadre is headed further west into the Cambrian Mountains. The first leg of the tour is nearly over; they’ll be shipping out to other continents, countries, soon enough. 

But for now, Aelin is wired, wide awake and writing. She never sleeps after a concert, even one where the fans don’t try to snatch her off the stage. She wishes there was someone to talk this over with.

Well, there’s one person she knows will still be awake.

**Buzzard,** Aelin texts, **You out yet?**

An immediate response, like he was waiting. **You know me better than that, Ace**.And then, **Everything alright?**

**I’m hiding in the bathroom and trying to write,** Aelin admits. **I don’t want to wake up Lys.**

The bubble appears and disappears a couple of times, **Let’s hear what you’ve got.**

Aelin smiles, starts typing.

###  **_Hell of a Night_ tour in Antica—two nights only. Buy your tickets now!**

“Buzzard!” Aelin shouts, practically kicking his hotel room door in. She doesn’t understand why she always has such a hard time with those things; they’re just fucking doors. “Buzzard, get your butt up! I have something I need you to look at!”

She tosses a bag of greasy fast food breakfast on the table and takes a sip of her coffee. Aelin’s so focused on digging through her purse for the notebook she was writing in that she doesn’t notice the shuffling of bedsheets in the next room.

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be sleeping, you brute,” Aelin complains, still digging through her bag. “Don’t think I won’t sit on you—”

A throat clears, interrupting her. Rowan is sitting uncomfortably in his bed, and a head of dark hair peeks out from under one of the blankets. It’s very clear what was happening in the room just before she burst into it uninvited.

“Oh,” Aelin says dumbly. This is not what she was expecting.

“Ace,” Rowan hedges. His cheeks have never been as red as they are right now. “Do you mind?”

“Shit,” she hisses, snapping into motion. Color floods her face as Aelin turns around and runs for the hills. She nearly runs right into the doorframe in her attempt to escape, mumbling excuses furiously.

“Yeah, uh, totally,” she flinches. “Fuck, no. I mean, no. I don’t mind—bye. Nice to see you, Lyria. Not that I saw—gods. Shit. Later!”

Aelin didn’t even know Lyria was in town. She must have surprised him after they settled into the hotel for the night. Gods, she’s mortified. All these years with five men as her best friends, touring and living elbow-to-elbow with each other, and somehow, Aelin never managed to walk in on one of them before.

Of course, when it did happen, it had to be Rowan.

###  **The Cadre heads for Erilea.**

As it often does, the tour hits a hiccup when their opening act drops out quietly and without fuss in between legs of the tour. Gavriel and the tour manager scramble to find a replacement, panicking and complaining and hating themselves for not adding a clause that required the band to stay under any and all circumstances.

Aelin doesn’t really mind. The group ended on good terms with her, and Aelin is fairly certain the band will recover in time for the festival circuits. She’ll be seeing them again; although, it’s unlikely, that Gavriel or Adarlan Records will ever let the group work with The Cadre again. It’s a little disappointing.

Aelin does mind, however, when Gavriel summons the band to an early morning call at the stadium. He’s scheduled some time with an up and coming musician and wants the band’s opinion on the potential new opener. It’s nice to reach a point in one’s career where they get to have such a say.

“We’re rockstars,” Aelin grumbles to Rowan as they march down the audience seating towards Gavriel and the rest of the band. “We’re not supposed to be up before noon.”

Rowan’s laughter skitters across her bones; she’s having trouble looking him in the eye this morning. She knows it shouldn’t be weird, that obviously he and Lyria have sex, but Aelin’s embarrassed because _she walked in on Rowan having sex with Lyria._

It was weeks ago, though. She needs to get over it, stop feeling so weird about it.

“You’ve been like this far longer than you’ve been a rockstar,” Rowan tells her fondly, flashing her one of his rare grins. “The only times I’ve ever seen you up at this hour on your own were because you never went to sleep in the first place.”

“You’re only proving my point here,” Aelin informs him, flopping into the chair beside Fenrys dramatically.

The guitarist lays his head on her shoulder, whispering, “Aelin, I think I’ve found the one.”

“Fen, just because they ask for your autograph doesn’t mean you’re in love,” she teases, merciless. Connal cracks up at her words, but his brother looks unamused by Aelin’s magnificent wit.

“I meant our opening act, Ace,” Fen tells her, taking her by the face and making her look towards a wing of the stage where a man stands tuning his guitar.

“Shit! He’s _cute_ ,” Aelin exclaims, sitting upright and jostling Fen off of her shoulder. Rowan tenses beside her.

“I thought you’d agree with me,” Fenrys purrs, eyeing the musician with similar interest. Aelin and he share a grin.

Just then, the touring manager directs the auditioning musician to take his place. To Aelin’s absolute horror, the brown-haired man winks at her with a smug smile as he passes by. Fenrys bursts into laughter, and Aelin turns bright red at being overheard. She buries her face in Fenrys’s shoulder, complaining, “Fuck me.”

Her bandmate’s voice is wry and full of humor, “I’ll pass, but I think _that_ one might be up to the challenge.”

###  **The Cadre: on the hunt for an opening act.**

He’s fantastic, of course, and Aelin wants to veto his act simply to avoid ever having to make eye contact with the cute guy again. Of course, that’s petty, even for Aelin, and also, he’s _really fucking hot._ Who wouldn’t want a chance to hang out with this guy on the road?

“What’s your name, kid?” Lorcan asks when he finishes, playing group dad.

The rest of her band, and anyone else in the amphitheater, is acutely aware of the fact that this musician has been making eyes at Aelin this entire time, serenading her throughout the audition. She won’t lie; it was kind of nice to be the one that someone was performing for, instead of the other way around.

Aelin could definitely get over her initial embarrassment. At least long enough to flirt and embarrass herself all over again. She’s got priorities. 

“Sam,” the man says. Fuck, Aelin thinks, his speaking voice is hot, too. Fenrys wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively, and Aelin has to bite her lip to fight off her smile. “Sam Cortland.”

“Well, thank you for coming, _Sam_ ,” Lor drawls, settling into his chair and feigning disinterest. The protective big brother at work. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Very soon,” Fen promises with a grin, and Aelin elbows him in the gut. Connall laughs inwardly, his shoulders shaking with the effort of not making a sound.

“Thank you for listening,” Sam says with a mischievous smile. He spares them a nod, and then he leaves, allowing the band a chance to speak.

Gavriel lets out a long sigh before he turns towards the band. He knows them well enough to know what’s about to go down here.

“Everyone in favor,” their manager says, rolling his eyes as Aelin and Fenrys shoot their hands into the air lightning fast. “Please raise your hand.”

Connall is still laughing as his hand rises towards the sky in support. Aelin makes eye contact with Vaughan, who shrugs. Not sold then. Time to find another supporter.

Lorcan scowls at her, his eyes speaking for him. _You just think he’s cute._

_So what?_ Aelin’s smile says. Lor shakes his head no, and her smile fades. Dammit.

Next, she turns to Rowan. Her co-leader has been suspiciously silent through the audition. Usually, he and Aelin share notes during something like this, incapable of keeping their opinions to themselves for long. 

Rowan sits next to her, jaw set in a hard line, and eyes detached from the present. What’s up with that?

Trying at playful, Aelin takes his wrist in her hand, raising it for him. The others chuckle, even stubborn Lorcan, but Rowan doesn’t look at her as he frees himself from her grasp, folding his hands in his lap.

Gavriel takes them in, “Tiebreaker, it is, then.”

Aelin watches her uncle as he thinks it over. Gavriel makes a show of tilting his head to one side and shuffling through some papers, probably a deck on the musician. Aelin may pick something like this on impulse, but it’s his job to make sense of it all.

“He’s in,” Gavriel decides. 

There’s no missing how Rowan’s shoulders tense. As the twins cheer to their victory, Aelin watches Rowan. Her friend clears his throat, looking displeased and as broody as ever.

“Ro,” she starts, unsure of this mood. “If you really disagree that strongly, then we can—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off quickly. No room for discussion.

It’s unlike Rowan, this attitude, and so is the way he stands from his seat and slips away from the theater, disappearing without further comment.

###  **Erilea’s own Sam Courtland to join The Cadre on their _Hell of a Night Tour_.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me verify the chapter count a million times because there’s no way I’ve written nine chapters already? I’m living for all of your reactions. Thank you all for reading! ❤️I think we’re due for my reminder that Aelin and Co. have the worst mouths ever. That’s it. That’s all the warnings I have for you today.

###  **_Hell of a Night Tour_ continues. See the dates.**

Sam’s cheekbones could cut glass, Aelin thinks as she admires him during the soundcheck a few days later. She’s supposed to be working on prep for her interview coming up in a few days, but it’s tough to get any work done when the cute singer on the stage keeps catching her eye.

“You’ve never been on time for a soundcheck in your life,” Vaughan drawls, sneaking up beside her with a twinkle in his eyes. “But these last few days, you’ve even beaten me here. Any idea what’s up with that?”

“I’m not going to justify that with an answer,” Aelin responds primly, checking her phone. She texted Rowan about getting coffee earlier, but he didn’t respond. With it being public knowledge that the band is in town, they’re not allowed to go anywhere alone. Particularly not her. It’s looking like no coffee for Aelin.

Vaughan chuckles and ruffles her hair regardless of the scowl that it earns him. She liked it better when the guys were a little afraid of her, before they got to know her better. “Whatever you say, Ace.”

She flips him the bird as he goes. Aelin reads over the questions for the interview again and gives thanks to the Gods that Gavriel arranged for her to speak with the magazine via phone. Aelin’s in no mood to smile and pretend not to be irritated by these people fishing for information that doesn’t belong to them.

Okay, so maybe Aelin has a bit of a problem with interviews.

A member of the stage crew thanks Sam for his time, ending his soundcheck. The tour manager and Gavriel talk for a few minutes, and then Gavriel speaks.

“Aelin,” he begins, sounding a little surprised, and Aelin raises a brow as all eyes fall to her. She’s an entertainer; she should be better about having everyone watching her. “Since you’re already here, care to play some piano for the crew to test?”

“I absolutely care,” she retorts just for the sake of being difficult. Her uncle looks exasperated, more so than usual, so Aelin takes pity on him. “Kidding. I’ve got something to work on anyway.”

Gavriel looks pleased with her answer and motions for her to take a seat. She hops onto the stage, and Lorcan chooses that moment to walk into the audience. He wolf whistles like the asshole he is.

“Who the fuck _are_ you?” he teases, eyes alight with mischief. Aelin works very hard not to blush or feel self-conscious about the way she looks this afternoon. The singer may or may not have spent a little extra time on her appearance, picking out something nice to wear and curling her hair.

“You look like a _girl_ ,” Connall observes, scrunching up his face as he looks over Aelin.

“It’s called a fucking dress, you bastards,” she shouts at them as she claims her spot on the piano bench and flips her notebook open to the right page. Seriously, all-male bandmates—terrible idea. “Girls wear them sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Connall pushes the point. A smile teases his lips. “But why are you wearing one?”

“I fucking hate all of you,” Aelin says right as the mic turns on, and her voice explodes, filling the space. Even Gavriel laughs at that one, a good-natured chuckle that sounds so much like Aedion, it makes her heartsick. Sam smiles from his seat beside Lorcan, too. It makes her flustered more than anything else in the stadium.

Her bandmates shout their _I love you_ ’s her way, but Aelin ignores them in favor of testing the piano keys. She hasn’t actually tried to sing this song in front of people. Here’s to not fucking up in front of the cute guy.

> _I’m jealous of the rain,_
> 
> _That falls upon your skin,_
> 
> _It’s closer than my hands have been,_
> 
> _I’m jealous of the rain…_

The audience is silent, but that’s also just the proper etiquette during a mic test. It doesn’t mean anything. Aelin’s fingers trip a little over the chords she’s testing out, wishing she’d thought to record this with her phone. She’s going to forget anything good. Ah, too late now.

> _I’m jealous of the wind,_
> 
> _That ripples through your clothes,_
> 
> _It’s closer than your shadow,_
> 
> _Oh, I’m jealous of the wind…_

###  **Who is Sam Cortland? More on The Cadre’s opening act.**

“Every time I see you,” a wry voice observes from behind her. Aelin jolts, and the voice chuckles, “You’ve got your face in that ratty notebook. Don’t you ever have any fun?”

Aelin shoots Sam a glare over her shoulder. Or, she tries to anyway. It’s hard to get her face to do what she wants it to with those golden-brown eyes smiling down on her. Fuck, she’s so lame.

It’s been a week or so now of touring with Sam. He’s funny, in a troublesome kind of way that Aelin just _fucking adores_. Fenrys has been giving her so much shit for the way she falls to pieces every time Aelin finds herself face to face with the musician.

“This is fun,” Aelin chooses to argue. Sam’s eyes twinkle in the dim backstage lights with amusement. He’s is about to go on stage, and Aelin should be warming up her voice or something, but this song she’s been working on for days just won’t leave her be. It’s haunting her dreams even.

Sam quirks an eyebrow, and her heart skips at the playfulness in his eyes.

“If you say so,” he teases. 

Yet, the look on Sam’s face tells her he understands. Another writer. Another bleeding heart. His touring band is gearing up in the background, getting ready for his entrance. The fans cheer.

Aelin can tell he wants to say something else, and she’s disappointed when he appears to reconsider.

“That’s my cue,” Sam says, adjusting the shoulder strap of his guitar mindlessly, like he does it all the time. “Later, Ace.”

###  **The Cadre is live in Bellhaven!**

Aelin plays the keyboard backstage manically, practicing her scales and humming no tune in particular. Sam’s sung his way through two of his songs, which means she has about twenty minutes to get warmed up. It also means she has twenty more minutes to panic.

“It’s almost like you’ve never done this before,” Rowan drawls, squeezing in beside Aelin on the bench. They barely fit together, but they make it work. His side presses into hers, warm and familiar, and Rowan joins her in playing the keyboard. It’s a game of theirs. Something they’ve developed to distract a nervous Aelin until their curtain call. 

“You say that like you haven’t watched me freak out just before our last three hundred shows,” Aelin grumbles. She misses a note and swears; Rowan chuckles at her nervous energy. Somehow it eases a little of the tension in her shoulders, helps her to forget about the potential of screwing up, of ruining everything, of letting everyone down. 

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned if I _wasn’t_ panicking,” she decides to say, reaching on hand over his to reach the note she wants.

“You’re always such a mess before a show,” Rowan teases, playing his part perfectly. The talented bastard. “I love it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Aelin says, finishing the song and pretending his words don’t send her into a spiral. She jumps up from the bench, incapable of sitting still too long. “I have to go pee.”

“You _just went_ ,” Fenrys teases from where he’s primping his hair in the mirror.

Aelin flips him off, “I pee when I’m nervous.”

Honestly, they should know this about her by now. Rowan laughs from his belly, and Aelin huffs in annoyance. She hates them, she decides. Aelin’s going to find a new band after this tour. 

###  **The Cadre’s Fenrys shares a self pre-show.**

She’s coming back from the bathroom when Aelin hears a familiar, small voice arguing with security. Curious, Aelin peeks around the corner to verify that it is who she thinks it is.

“Please,” Lyria begs softly. She looks so small compared to the burly man guarding the entrance to backstage. “If you’ll check for my name, I’m on the list. I—this is my passport. Rowan doesn’t check his phone before a show, so—“

“Look, lady,” the guy growls. What an asshole. “I don’t have time to explain this to you again. If you don’t have a pass already, you aren’t getting—“

“Hey, dickweed,” Aelin interrupts from behind him. Lyria pales at the sight of the blonde’s anger. “You get off on being this difficult to everyone? Or just women who are smaller than you?”

The man’s eyes flash with anger, but Aelin holds her ground. She’d like to see him start something. “Let her in. She’s good.”

“I can’t let anyone in without a pass,” the man insists, turning his back on Aelin and ignoring her.

“Dude, I said _let her in_ ,” Aelin growls. Lyria starts to stutter something that sounds suspiciously like an apology, which just pisses Aelin off more at the guy. “Man, are you fucking deaf or something?”

“And who are you to make that call?” The guy looks her up and down, judging her for her mini skirt and band t-shirt. “Let me see _your_ badge, roadie.”

Aelin flushes with anger. Of course, she’s nothing more than the roadie to this guy. Some girl following the band around to fuck the guys in dressing rooms and do lines—none of which even happens on their tours. Well, the sex does sometimes, but not in the dressing room. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Aelin taunts, slapping the badge in the security guy’s face. It seems like something one should be on top of, knowing the faces of the people in the band.

Very few moments have compared to the moment that the security guard recognizes her name, reads the badge, and realizes she’s the front _woman_ of the band he’s working for tonight. He pales, looking to her in surprise.

Aelin wiggles her fingers for his badge. She’s not going to get him in trouble, cost him his job simply because he’s a sexist dick, but that won’t stop Aelin from putting the fear of the gods in him. Fucker.

###  **Win a backstage pass to meet The Cadre!**

“Thank you,” Lyria sighs as they leave the flustered security guy behind. “I didn’t know what to do. He was so mean.”

“He’s an asshole with a power complex,” Aelin huffs. “You’ll find a lot of them around here.”

“Oh,” Lyria breathes. Sometimes, Aelin wonders if maybe Rowan’s girlfriend is a little too sweet for him, if perhaps they’re not a case of opposites attract but rather what happens when two people just get _comfortable_ with each other _._

Aelin hits the brakes on those thoughts immediately.

“Right,” Aelin says, putting her hands on her hips. “Speaking of assholes, let’s not tell Rowan about this, or it’ll become a whole thing. I really don’t feel like keeping him from picking a fight like the territorial alpha male he is.”

Lyria looks offended on the behalf of her boyfriend, “He’d never do that.”

Aelin isn’t too sure what to say to that, so she raises her brow. Lyria insists, saying, “I’m not comfortable keeping secrets from him.”

“It’s not a secret,” Aelin says impatiently. She ruffles her hair, scowling when she realizes her mistake. It’ll lose all of the body she’s worked so hard to achieve. “We’re just… omitting something. No biggie.”

Lyria’s soft brown eyes seem to consider this. It looks like she might fight Aelin on the idea, but instead, she says, “I like your hair.”

“Thanks!” Aelin says, eager to accept the change of subject. She tugs the shoulder-length cut. It’s longer in the front than the back, a slick A-line style that makes her feel invincible. 

“I wanted to cut all of it off,” Aelin admits, twirling the orange ends, “but Rowan talked me out of it.”

Lyria makes a face. It’s torn between familiar fondness and something like discomfort, “Rowan does like long hair on women.”

Aelin feels a pang, but she shoves it down, down, down. 

“Right. So, the guys are through that door there,” she motions towards the green room. “They’re probably doing macho things like push-ups and punching each other, but they’ll be happy to see you.”

“Where are you going?” Lyria asks curiously.

“To pee,” the singer admits with a face. Yes, she did just go, but Sam is starting the intro to his next song. Aelin definitely needs to pee one more time before the curtain.

She runs for it, Lyria’s laughing chasing her the whole way.

###  **The Cadre share their pre-show rituals.**

“Hello.”

Aelin is watching Lorcan and Rowan show off at darts when Sam sneaks up on her again. His voice against the side of her neck isn’t unwanted, but it’s definitely unexpected.

She slings out a series of expletives that have half the bar roaring with laughter. Lorcan is there in an instant for a high five, but Aelin’s too embarrassed to really feel pride in his praise. She returns the gesture meekly, ignoring Lor’s wink.

Sam’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”

“You’re fired from this tour,” she tells him flatly. She tries to hold her glare, but when his face falls, Aelin breaks into giggles. She’s such a mess for this guy. It’s really confusing.

“That’s mean,” Sam accuses. “A total abuse of power.”

“Says the creep who keeps sneaking up on me,” Aelin’s smile hurts her face. She tries not to notice how her heart races. Gods, it’s been a long time since Aelin crushed this hard.

“So,” Sam starts with a sigh. He runs his hands through his brown locks nervously, and Aelin’s pulse definitely skips. “About that fun, you never have…”

Aelin grins impossibly wider. Sam flushes at the apparent innuendo he’s making, tries to save himself, “I mean—”

“Ace,” Rowan calls from across the bar. How they haven’t had their location leaked is beyond her, but she’s thrilled at the chance to hang out like ordinary, boring people for the evening.

Reluctantly, Aelin looks to her friend, “Yeah?”

“Wanna help me kick Lor’s ass at pool?” Rowan offers, holding a pool stick in the air. Lyria giggles softly at her boyfriend’s antics. They’ve tried to teach her, but the brunette seems to prefer being an observer.

Aelin’s eyes slide towards Sam. He looks disappointed.

“Nah,” she calls back, sending her admirer a smile. Sam’s eyes turn hopeful. “Actually, I think I’m going to head out.”

Cue the howling and wolf-whistles.

“Fuck all of you,” she shouts over the noise. It earns another round of taunting. Aelin scowls at the sight of Sam laughing, but the pink tinging his ears makes her forgive him quickly.

“Let’s get out of here before I commit a quadruple homicide,” she tells him.

Sam gives her a curious look, “Who gets to live?”

“Fuck, that’s only four, huh?” Aelin glances back at her heckling bandmates. Her family. Lor’s rakish smile splits his face in half, and the twins won’t stop smiling. They definitely deserve death.

Rowan is making a point not to look her way, and Lyria watches him curiously. Aelin looks away quickly.

“Vaughan,” she decides. “But only because I think he might have some great secret agenda that none of us knows about.”

Sam laughs, his head tossed back, and a hand on his stomach. This guitarist from nowhere has no right to be so fucking attractive.

Aelin wiggles her brows in a way that makes Sam stand up straighter. “Alright, Cortland. Show me some fun.”

He grins, holding out his hand for her, “Follow me, Galathynius.”

She takes it.

###  **The Cadre share group photo—but where’s Aelin?**

Sam’s that stereotypical musician that carries his guitar with him everywhere. They explore the city they’re in, Bellhaven. To stay hidden, Aelin keeps the hood of her jacket up, tugged down to her nose, while Sam points out the sights. He’s from this area, knows it well, loves it.

“If they weren’t closed, I’d take you over there for the best milkshake you’ve ever eaten,” Sam promises her.

Aelin moans, “I would kill for ice cream.”

As they walk, their fingers keep brushing, and Aelin is shameless about finding excuses to touch him, to grab him by his arm or lean into his side. When Sam makes her laugh, she presses her face into his shoulder, and Sam wraps an arm around her waist to keep her close.

It’s a good night. Fantastic. Best first sort of date ever.

He leads her down to the waterfront, and they hang out on a paint chipped, green bench watching the stars play on the water. Aelin is fascinated. Doranelle is mostly concrete and skyscrapers. Sure, her parents liked to vacation back home in Terrasen, but that doesn’t compare to living somewhere like this.

“What are you doing?” Sam sounds exasperated when Aelin starts to dig through her bag. She finds her phone, ignoring the taunting texts from the band, and fishes out her notebook.

Sam sighs, but still, he smiles. “You know, I’m trying to woo you here. The least you could do is pay attention to my efforts.”

Aelin’s smile is wry. “They’re _great_ efforts, but if you really wanna win me over, you’ll break out that guitar of yours.”

Sam laughs. He pulls out the well-loved guitar, made of dark walnut, and rolls his eyes at her.

“Any requests?” He strums the guitar once, but Aelin’s nose is already in her notebook, scratching down words in her horrific handwriting.

“Just one,” she says at last, smiling. She hands Sam the notebook, tapping the chord progression. “Play that for me.”

###  **_Say You Won’t Let Go_ out now!**


	10. Chapter 10

###  **The Cadre live at the Wastes—two nights only!**

Aelin definitely goes in for a kiss before the night is over, but—much to Aelin’s disappointment and delight—Sam is an utter gentleman. He kisses her on the cheek, and then with that smooth accent of his, he tells her goodnight, tucking a piece of orange hair behind her ear and leaving her gaping after him.

Her phone has been buzzing all night, so Aelin opens the group thread for the band and shoots off a text without reading anything.

 **I don’t know what any of you assholes are saying, but I want you to know I hate you each and every one of you,** she tells them, tossing the device to the bed and getting ready to go to sleep. She’s beat.

The phone dings just as Aelin closes her eyes. She considers ignoring it far longer than is necessary, but she decides to check it anyway. She’s hoping that it’s Gavriel responding to her request to book some recording time at their next stop. So that she and Sam can record their song.

 **Text us when you’re back safe,** Rowan has texted, the sweet bastard.

The others flood in their inappropriate remarks about being safe, and she scowls. Moment ruined. It seems about right.

 **I’m quitting the band,** she tells them with a million frowning faces, and then she turns off the sound. Aelin doesn’t mean it, of course; she’d never quit the band. She loves the group, but that won’t stop her from making threats.

Aelin falls asleep quickly, into a gentle, peaceful sleep.

###  **The Cadre wraps up their Erilea tour this month. What’s next?**

Aelin finds it pretty weird at first, writing alongside someone who isn’t Rowan. Aelin’s never done that before, never worked with anybody else. She’s written a million songs on her own, and she’s taken Rowan’s work and run with it a hundred times over, too. This is… different, but Aelin doesn’t think she minds it. Not entirely.

Telling Rowan that she’d written a song with Sam was—also weird. Aelin still can’t name the emotion that flickered in his eyes when she mentioned that she and Sam had studio time booked together, inviting Rowan to tag along. It almost felt like she was admitting to cheating on her co-leader… 

Weird, it was weird.

The rest of the band could care less. They shrugged it off, except for Lorcan, who wore the biggest shit-eating grin of his life every time he looked her way. Fenrys wasn’t all that much better, really. He kept asking when Aelin was going to make her move; it wasn’t like her to take her time with these kinds of things. She was just as bad as any of her bandmates when it came to dating.

But Sam is… different. He makes her _nervous_ , and Aelin finds it just awful. She can’t get enough.

###  **Aelin Galathynius, dating tour mate Sam Cortland?**

“Try the chorus _one_ more time,” Aelin tells Sam through the mic in the booth. He’s like a different person in the studio. Gone is the jokester that Aelin’s gotten to know so well.

“Wow, you’re bossy,” he remarks, brown eyes alight with fondness. Okay, maybe the jokester isn’t totally gone. “Anyone ever told you that?”

Fenrys cackles from the couch, having tagged along to see the sights. He’s been horribly unhelpful. When Rowan declined, Aelin decided she’d use the one on one time to flirt with Sam properly. Something Fen has been hounding her about for day. Yet, here he was. The cock block.

Touring was _so not_ lucrative for flirting.

It didn’t seem to matter for Rowan and Lyria, though. The couple had no problems with showing their affections for each other; Aelin was in no way bold enough to try flirting with Sam in front of their disgusting PDA. 

Maybe it was good Rowan opted out of the recording session with barely more than a shrug of his shoulders. The couple would definitely have been distracting; no doubt, Lyria would have come along.

Still, Aelin thought it was odd; Rowan _loved_ recording. Almost more than playing live. He liked being in control of mixing, liked arguing with Aelin about the minute details.

 _Sounds like you have it all covered, Ace,_ Rowan told her. _I’m going to do some tourist stuff with Lyria._

It was an obvious excuse, considering that Rowan and Lyria couldn’t go anywhere without the security team. The city was on high alert looking for them, dying for a chance to maul the band. Yet, Aelin didn’t know how to call him on it. So, she let it slide. Rowan was clearly bent out of shape about something, but she figured he would tell her when he was ready.

To try and coax it out of him ahead of time was always a terrible idea. 

“I prefer the term assertive,” Aelin tells Sam, shaking off the thoughts about Rowan. There’ll be time to puzzle out her co-leader’s mood later. “Why do women always have to be bossy?”

Sam strums his guitar thoughtfully. “It doesn’t always have to be a bad thing,” he says, “I think _assertive_ women are hot.”

Aelin flushes immediately. She doesn’t have a comeback for that one, so she hits the button to turn the mic on and barks, “Just sing the song already.”

“Yes, _ma’am_.” He flashes her a brilliant smile, and Aelin huffs, flopping into her seat and starting the track. Her face is on fire.

Fenrys whistles from behind, “You better watch out, Ace. That’s one smooth fucker in there. If you don’t bang him soon, I might.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Her bandmate laughs.

###  **Aelin Galathynius on what it’s like to be the only girl on the road—And no, it isn’t all that glorious.**

The rest of the tour dates fly by. Aelin barely stops to eat and drink, much less to talk with Rowan and figure out his weird mood. They’re fine for the most part, business as usual, but he’s become a little distant. Aelin misses hanging out with her best friend, but she supposes she’ll have some time to do so after the tour ends.

The days are a blur, but the chance to play music, to reach fans all over the world—that’s what Aelin lives for. That’s why she does any of this.

“Okay, bitches!”

Her mouth is the number one reason she never invites her parents to her shows. They’ve come before; of course, they have. Her parents would come to every show if she let them. Aelin was blessed with two wholesome and supportive parents. It was so annoying.

Yet, all of that love and support, wouldn’t stop Evalin Galathynius from telling her, _Aelin, you should really work on your language. Children are listening._

She misses them, Aelin thinks as she waits for the cheering to subside. What a weird moment to get nostalgic for home.

Aelin shrugs it off. Her grin is chaos. This is their last show for the Hell of Night tour; she’ll be back in Doranelle by this time tomorrow, having dinner at Emrys’s restaurant with her moody best friend. Her parents have plans to meet her for brunch, which is just terrible news. Aelin wants to sleep forever, but she also misses the shit of them.

“I thought we’d invite somebody out for this next song,” Aelin smiles at the crowd. The guys amp up the music, playing up the moment. She laughs at the enthusiasm, the girls squealing at her. “It’s like you know who it is already.”

The crowd screams; Aelin looks out into the wing, finding Sam’s mischievous smile waiting for her. Her heart stutters at the light in his eyes; he loves this as much as she does.

It takes the crowd a while to quiet down enough for her to get the words out, and she has to bite back a smile at their energy. It’s been an awesome show—a great way to end the tour.

“I’d like for you all to welcome back to the stage—for our last night on tour—Sam Cortland,” Aelin shouts above the roar.

Rowan begins the intro to the song, and Connall takes a seat at the piano. Sam looks a little lost without his guitar, fingers creating phantom chords, but there are only so many parts to play during this song, only so many instruments. Aelin flashes him a smile as she starts the song:

_I met you in the dark, you lit me up,_

_You made me feel as though I was enough,_

_We danced the night away, we drank too much…_

###  **Watch The Cadre perform _Say You Won’t Let Go_ , featuring Sam Cortland.**

“Guess what?” Sam says, rushing into Aelin’s dressing room and showing her his phone.

His excitement is infectious, and Aelin is very curious about what it is that’s gotten him so worked up. She leans in to read the headline he’s displaying, pretending not to see the knowing look on Lorcan’s face. He’s enjoying teasing her about whatever is brewing between the pair a little too much for her liking.

“Shut the fuck up!” Aelin screams, reading the title.

Sam just beams at her. This is big for him, bigger than touring with The Cadre; he’s made it into the mainstream. Their song hit number one on the charts, and she can’t resist it any longer. She takes his shirt in both fists and yanks him in for an eager kiss.

Lorcan coughs and disappears without a word. Bro code.

When they pull apart, Aelin flashes Sam an apologetic smile, “Crap, I don’t think I was supposed to do that.”

“And why not?” Sam asks, eyes impossibly dark and voice low. Those brown eyes of his look worried. Aelin bites her lip, and Sam tracks the motion, licking his own lips. Fuck, she definitely wants to kiss him again.

“Because,” she says. Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, a little breathless. “I’m getting on a plane to fly to the other side of the world tomorrow morning.”

He looks about as bummed as Aelin feels. She tugs on his collar as she speaks, unable to look him in the eye but unwilling to let him go, “And someone else is about to make it big here in Erilea.”

His eyes light up at that thought. She flashes him a small smile, and Sam’s hands find her waist easily, warm, and trustworthy. Fuck, Aelin thinks. She should’ve made her move sooner. She’s too late—a common problem with her.

Sam’s hands flex where they lay on her waist. Aelin’s heart begins to race as he tugs her in just ever so slightly, and he brushes his thumb across her cheekbone. She’s trying really hard not to smile as he leans in for the kiss, arching her body into his, happy and eager.

It’s just the brush of his lips on hers at first. Aelin frowns as soon as he begins to pull away, and Sam chuckles softly as he returns for a proper kiss.

Aelin sighs into it, fingers reaching for Sam’s wild hair. His own hands travel, one arm wrapping around her waist to hold her close. His other runs along her spine, and Aelin’s skin breaks into goosebumps.

She’s just about to take his lip in her teeth when the door opens.

“Aelin, the car is here, and we’re going to ditch your ass if—”

They break apart, and Aelin tucks her face into Sam’s shoulder, laughing to hide her embarrassment. She supposes it could be worse; Rowan could’ve just walked in on _her_ in the middle of getting busy. At least she has her pants on.

Rowan looks taken aback, and Aelin thinks he looks… hurt.

“This is acceptable payback, I think,” she jests, biting her lip to hide her complex emotions. Sam raises a brow at her, and Aelin laughs awkwardly. “Always knock first, Samuel Cortland.”

Understanding fills his eyes, and Sam laughs, “I take it, you don’t?”

“I have boundary issues,” Aelin explains. She looks towards Rowan, trying to break the weirdness of this moment. It doesn’t make sense, and yet, it does. “I don’t know how you put up with me.”

“Tell me about it,” Rowan says roughly, wearing a weak smile. Her bandmate coughs to clear his throat. When he speaks next, he sounds more like Rowan, “You’re a pain in the ass for sure.”

“Rude,” Aelin retorts. She glances back at Sam before telling Rowan, “I’ll meet you at the party, yeah?”

It’s definitely hurt that Rowan’s wearing, but he nods. “Sure thing.”

“Right,” Aelin says to Sam after the door closes. She flashes him a smile, and he returns it quickly, closing the space between them without hesitation. Aelin wraps her arms around his neck. “Where were we?”

###  **_Say You Won’t Let Go_ Hits #1**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, angst... Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

###  **_Hell of a Night_ Afterparty, see the pictures.**

Sam presses Aelin up against the door of her hotel room. She laughs brightly, loudly, and Sam stops kissing her neck to shush her between kisses. Aelin can’t stop giggling long enough to kiss him back very well, which just makes her laugh harder.

“You’re going to attract attention,” he murmurs, nipping at her bottom lip. The laughter dies in Aelin’s throat, and she pulls Sam in for a sweet, long kiss.

Her smile spells trouble when they break apart, “Maybe I’m into that kind of thing. I’m an entertainer after all; I love it when people pay attention to me.”

Sam raises a brow at her, and she breaks into laughter, reaching behind her to get her door open. Aelin nearly falls into the room as the door swings inward. Sam catches her by the waist, his laughter fanning against her neck. Aelin leans into him, chasing his touch.

They’re a little tipsy, but Aelin thinks it’s Sam more than anything else that’s got her in such a mood. She can’t stop smiling or laughing, and she’s still riding the high from the concert earlier. What can she say? She’s really fucking happy.

“You’re a weirdo,” he says through his laughter. “Anyone ever told you that?”

“Whatever,” Aelin says, taking him by the hands and leading him towards her bedroom. “You fucking like it.”

“So damn much,” he agrees, following after her like a moth to the flame.

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares picture with Sam Cortland.**

“You’re so beautiful,” Sam whispers into the skin of her neck. Aelin straddles his lap, head leaning to the side to allow him better access. In typical Aelin fashion, she’s taken control of the situation, and to her delight, he was more than happy to let her take the lead, take what she wants from him.

She moans as his tongue flicks across her skin. Sam’s answering laugh dances across her skin, and Aelin shivers, overwhelmed by it all.

“You’re good at this,” she tells him, earning another chuckle.

“Thanks,” he scrunches up his face. “I think.”

Aelin nuzzles at his cheek to get him to return to kissing her, and she hums as Sam complies. This is nice, taking her time with someone, getting to know them both before and during sex. She’s typically more of a charge in head first, deal with the damages later, kind of girl.

Sam’s hands dance around the hem of her shirt, playing with the slip of skin exposed between it and the waistband of her leggings. His hands are warm, comfortable, and Aelin thinks she could get very used to this. Having Sam.

Aelin tugs her shirt off, but her head gets caught, and Sam has to save her, laughing all the way.

“I’m not very good at this apparently,” Aelin huffs, blowing hair out of her face. She blushes, turning her flushed skin hotter. Sam kisses it away.

“You’re great,” he tells her between kisses. “Perfect, really.”

Aelin feels the blush wash over her. She ducks her head and mutters, “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asks, looking concerned.

“Being such a smooth fuck.” Sam roars with laughter, falling backward onto the mattress, and Aelin blushes even more. “That’s it,” she declares. “I’ve officially met my limit in embarrassment. You have to leave now.”

Sam frowns, a playful smile dancing at his lips. “Well, can I talk my way out of being in trouble?” He asks as he trails his lips across her collarbone. Lower. Aelin arches into him against her own will, gasping at the feeling. 

“Shit,” she hisses. “Yeah, okay. You can stay.”

###  **The Cadre seen on the town—minus Aelin?**

Things are getting hot and heavy when Aelin’s brain goes into overdrive. Sam’s the most attentive guy she’s ever invited into the bedroom, which should be a fucking awesome thing, but in actuality, it fucking terrifies her. Sam gives a _damn_ , and Aelin likes him so much that she starts to wonder if maybe this is a bad call. Perhaps he’ll judge her for taking him home after one kiss and an awesome makeout session at a party.

Sam notices. Of course, he fucking notices. He’s so tuned into her every little breath that he practically senses it the second Aelin’s mind starts to torment her. He leans back, brushing all of her hair from her face and looking her in the eye. “Is this okay?”

Shit, she likes him _so much_.

“Uh,” she begins, searching her addled brain for the right words to describe what she’s feeling, what’s going on in her head without sounding fucking crazy.

Sam waits patiently, rubbing soothing circles into her thighs. It’s lovely. It’s a lot. It’s hard to think with him so close.

“I—I think,” Aelin swallows back her feelings, laughing a little uncomfortably. Sam watches her closely, not missing a thing. “I think I’m nervous?”

“Okay,” Sam says calmly. His hands slow their ministrations and eventually drop away from her entirely. It leaves her feeling cold, but also, helps her think better. Those brown eyes are soft and gentle, “Do you want to stop?”

Fuck, she might cry. He has no right to be so damn perfect.

“No!” Aelin says quickly, and that mischievous smile she likes so much comes back in full force. “Uh, no,” a breath of a laugh. She resists the need to bury her face into the pillows and hide forever. She’s never this uncool during sex. It’s so embarrassing.

“Will you, uh, switch with me?” Aelin asks a second later, ducking her head and feeling shy. Sam’s smile is sweet. He cups her face and presses the lightest of kisses to her lips.

“Sure.”

He rolls them over, taking gentle care to lay her to the mattress. Aelin’s face is burning, and she’s having a lot of feelings right now. It’s a lot. 

But she’s really, really happy.

###  **The end of a _Hell of a Night_.**

Aelin skids across the hotel room towards the door. She and Sam ordered room service, and Aelin is fucking starving. If her boyfriend—Woah, it’s way too soon for that train of thought. Right?

If _Sam_ doesn’t hurry up, she’s going to eat all his food, too.

“I hope you were really generous with the cheese,” Aelin taunts through the door as she reaches it. Sam laughs from the other room, “because it’s been, like, a fucking year since I’ve been allowed—”

Rowan stands in the doorway, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other raised to hit the door again. He takes one look at Aelin—at her wet hair and oversized shirt—and his eyes go vacant, distant in a way that Aelin’s not used to seeing from him. Yet, she’s seeing it more and more.

“Uh, hey,” Aelin begins awkwardly. Now she really wishes she’d responded to all those texts. “What’s up, Buzzard?”

“Just making sure you’re up for the flight,” he says, voice gruff. “You didn’t text back. I thought maybe you’d already gone into your post-tour coma.”

Aelin smiles, but the expression is awkward, forced. She definitely isn’t in a coma, and she definitely didn’t get any sleep. “Nope, just—busy.”

Rowan nods once, and they stand there in some weird silent battle of wills. Eventually, Aelin holds the door open for Rowan to enter. It would appear that he’s finally come to spill his secrets, to explain his terrible attitude these last weeks on tour, and even with a very attractive, half-naked man in the next room waiting for her, Aelin puts her best friend first.

The tension in the air is palpable, and while Aelin doesn’t like it, she also doesn’t know what to do about it. She needs to know what the problem is to fix it. Rowan passes by, head hanging low to avoid having to really look at her.

“So,” Aelin spins, watching as Rowan takes a seat on the couch in her suite. She wishes she were wearing something more than an oversized t-shirt right now; she feels too exposed, doesn’t know how to handle it.

The shirt is Sam’s, and Aelin knows that Rowan’s noticed. Not that it should bother him. “What’s up?”

“You vanished at the party,” he says, voice tight and controlled.

Idle conversation first, it is then.

“Yeah,” Aelin shrugs, walking around the living space, clicking the bedroom door closed tight, and leaning against the back of a chair. Rowan doesn’t meet her eyes. “Sam and I decided to ditch. No biggie.”

“We missed you.”

A long pause.

When Rowan breaks it, his voice has turned cold, like a winter wind that cuts through all your clothes and shocks you through. “That’s… kind of fast, don’t you think?”

“What?” Aelin heard him perfectly, but she wants to give him the chance to reconsider what he’s just said.

Rowan’s expression tells her that he knows perfectly what he’s done. He just doesn’t care; he meant it. “You barely know the guy, Ace.”

It makes Aelin see red. She wants to point out that she’s definitely fucked a few guys whose names she barely can recall, but that seems like the wrong call. Like boring gasoline on a fire.

“We’ve been touring with the guy for a month, Rowan,” she hedges.

Aelin really doesn’t want to fight with him; she just wants to know more about this chip on his shoulder. The rest of the band gave Sam a ton of shit when he first joined the tour, but they were quick to let him in and make him feel at home—even if Lor won’t refer to him as anything other than “kid.”

Rowan, however, remained a friendly sort of distant with Sam. He made no effort to get to know the musician; in fact, Rowan put forth more energy to keep away from the guy. It kind of sucked, considering how Aelin felt about Sam, considering it was no secret that she had the biggest of crushes on him.

“I wouldn’t say that’s fast,” Aelin argues. Something petty in her makes her add, “How long do you take with a girl? With Lyria?”

It’s so not something Aelin actually wants to know the answer to, but she’s hoping he’ll see the error of his sexist remark. Rowan wouldn’t be questioning this decision if it was anyone else. Fenrys or Connall. Lorcan is the biggest culprit. Vaughan—who knows what he’s up to.

Rowan wouldn’t say anything to the other men in the group. But he did her.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Right,” Aelin scoffs, hands clutching to the back of the chair. It feels more comfortable like this, to have something between them. Not because she thinks that he’ll harm her or something crazy like that, but just because. “Of course, you don’t see the double standard.”

“Don’t play the girl card right now, Aelin,” Rowan practically growls, escalating the already tense mood. “I’m just saying you’re moving kind of fast, don’t you think? This has nothing to do with—“

“We both know exactly what this has to do with,” Aelin seethes through her clenched teeth. It’s something she’s been piecing together, something she hasn’t _quite_ made sense of, but it’s there, hovering between them in the air. 

Aelin regrets the words as soon as she speaks them, but only Rowan could really provoke this level of recklessness from her.

_They don’t talk about it_ , a voice in her mind screams. _Take it back._

The silence is deafening. Rowan doesn’t appear to be breathing, and his eyes are blown wide as he stares at her, gaping. He looks away just as quickly, schooling his face into that bored mask he likes to hide behind.

But she’s already done it. So, she might as well push the point. Aelin’s heart pounds in her ears as she manages to croak out, “You’re, like, jealous or something.”

A long pause as she gives Rowan a chance to speak. To deny it. He doesn’t take it, so she proceeds. “And I don’t think it’s fair—It’s kind of fucked, Rowan. For you to sit there and criticize me, to—“

Her voice breaks. It pisses her off more than anything.

“Shit,” Aelin swears, not knowing how to articulate it. Rowan is nothing more than a statue on her couch, face ashen and eyes looking anywhere but her. It’s for the best, though, because Aelin’s skin burns with heat. She can barely look in his direction, either.

“Y-you have a girlfriend,” she stutters. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. “_ So, it’s not fair for you to, to _babysit me_ —I’m living my life. Same as you.”

Aelin holds her breath and waits for Rowan to finally react. They could hear a pin drop in the other room; it’s so quiet. Aelin’s heart races, and she really, _really_ hopes she hasn’t just fucked everything up.

_They don’t talk about this. Take it back._

“Ace, where do you keep—” Sam’s voice comes from the bedroom as he enters, opening the door. His hair is wet from his shower. Just like hers. Aelin thinks she just manages not to flinch.

“Nevermind,” he decides, sensing the mood in the room immediately. Sam observes Rowan, who looks steadfast in the opposite direction, then looks towards Aelin. His eyes ask her if everything is alright, but what he says is, “I think I can find it myself.”

Sam slinks away. Aelin crosses her arms and keeps her eyes to the floor, waiting. She’s said her piece; now it’s up to Rowan.

Rowan’s not an expressive guy; it’s the little things that give him away. Her best friend stares hard at his hands, jaw locked so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t break all of his teeth. He doesn’t say anything—which says a lot.

“I’ll see you on the plane,” Rowan decides on, at last, slapping his hands against his thighs and rising from the couch. Rowan heads for the door without a look back and leaves.

Aelin is furious. She wants to throw shit, wants to scream at the door, to chase after him, and punch him his stupid fucking face.

But she also feels cold. Cold and alone and _sad_. Tears prick her eyes, and Aelin scrubs her face furiously to stop them. It’s so unfair that she has to be the one to cry when she fights with Rowan—he’s the one being an ass.

“You alright?” Sam’s voice is soft, and it makes her want to cry harder.

She bites her lip hard enough to taste blood.

Eventually, she gives him a terse nod. Aelin can only pray he hasn’t heard the details of their fight. That would just be awkward as hell. Sam’s eyes are too kind, and they make the tears threaten harder.

“Y-yeah.” The words are strangled, but Sam doesn’t hold it against her.

“He… doesn’t like me very much, does he?” Sam says after a moment, and Aelin takes a shaky breath of air.

Her expression is apologetic, but he doesn’t seem mad about it. Sam’s noticed the way Rowan keeps him at arm’s length; he probably just didn’t know why— doesn’t know why still, hopefully.

“Rowan,” Aelin starts, trailing off as she considers her next words. “Rowan doesn’t like me most days, Sam. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Aelin’s answer definitely surprises him; Sam raises an eyebrow, but she just shrugs it off. She doesn’t want to talk about Rowan anymore, and definitely not with Sam.

###  **Spotted: Aelin Galathynius leaving hotel.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr folks asked for my playlist. Here's the link if any of you are interested.   
> [Noisy Neighbors Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/55o42aVuvPrP3QoAT1WIwE)

###  **The Cadre reflects on their _Hell of a Night_ tour.**

Sam and Aelin leave on better terms than she expected after her argument with Rowan. She thought he might back off completely; Aelin wouldn’t blame the guy. She certainly wouldn’t move in on a chick with a guy like Rowan hovering nearby. The thought brings her anger back, and Aelin has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from raging.

The goodbye kiss is a lot. Aelin pulls him in close, and it takes a monumental effort to let go of Sam and walk out of the hotel room, leaving him behind. It’s not like she’ll never hear from him again or speak to him, but Aelin only just got him.

Sam promises to call her, and Aelin assures him that she’s going to send him a shit ton of pictures while she’s on vacation with her parents in Terrasen. At this time, it remains to be seen if they’re empty promises or not. If he means it. She really hopes he does.

There’s no telling what life in this business will bring them. Married couples go months without seeing each other in person in the music industry, in any entertainment industry. Aelin has trouble imagining herself married and happy anyway, but were she to pull it off… What would it even look like? Really?

Aelin claims the seat beside Lorcan on the jet. It goes unnoticed by no one, but the thought of spending the next twelve hours sitting next to Rowan is unbearable. He hasn’t looked at her once. And fuck him if he thinks Aelin is about to apologize first. She didn’t go knock on his door and question his life choices.

“Wanna watch this movie with me?” Lor asks, elbowing her gently and bringing her out of her storm cloud of thoughts. “This Nehemia chick is fucking _hot_.”

Aelin cracks a smile at the drummer despite herself. Lor just wiggles his dark brows at her knowingly, handing her an earbud.

“Why the fuck not?” Aelin decides, shrugging. She could use the distraction. Aelin takes the earbud from him and snuggles into Lorcan’s side. He wraps an arm around her, and they settle in. Aelin takes one look at the screen and blurts, “Shit! She’s _super_ hot.”

“I know, right?”

###  **Landed: The Cadre back in Doranelle!**

In some twisted turn of fate, the entire band decides to eat dinner at Emrys’s. Aelin accepts the opportunity to show off her favorite restaurant, and they head out directly from the airport. Even Rowan comes along, without Lyria there to meet him at the airport.

“She’s working tonight,” he tells Fenrys when the guitarist asks. “They’ve got a night shoot for the next few days.”

“Brutal,” the twin agrees as they each claim their seats. The Cadre had to rearrange Malakai’s meticulous floor plan to make a big enough table for the six of them, but the sight of all of the eager new customers has the older man forgiving them quickly enough.

Aelin sits as far away from Rowan as possible. She’s still pissed, and she thinks if he makes the mistake of trying to talk to her, trying to pretend that everything between them is okay right now, that she’ll fucking lose it.

Vaughan sits opposite her without comment and starts to ask her about what her favorite meal is. Aelin welcomes the distraction, pretending not to know what these burly, considerate men in her life are up to. She dives headfirst into a long and epic tale of the best hazelnut cake she’s ever eaten in her life.

“But that’s a dessert,” Vaughan says when she finishes.

“Not if you eat enough of it,” Aelin quips, and the table erupts into laughter. She beams at the attention, and as if on instinct, she looks towards Rowan, seeking his reaction, wanting to share the fun.

He’s already watching her with a fond smile. She has to look away quickly after meeting his eye. Aelin isn’t ready to make nice with him. Not yet.

###  **Family Photo! Fenrys Moonbeam shares group photo of The Cadre at dinner!**

Dinner is splendid, as always. Emrys makes them a spread of food, and Malakai dotes on them, adopting the four other band members as quickly as he did Rowan and Aelin. Luca is away at college now, and Aelin thinks the two fathers might be having a bit of empty nest syndrome.

Despite her feelings towards Rowan at the moment, the night is a pleasant event. It’s an even better way to wrap up the tour than any dumb afterparty they could have had. Aelin feels a flash of guilt about the fact that she was too busy with Sam to really celebrate the end of their tour with her friends. She might’ve dropped the ball a little bit.

Yet, the thought of Sam has Aelin checking her phone. He’s texted her once, just around the time that her plane was supposed to land.

 **Miss you,** he says.

Aelin lifts the phone to take a picture, frowning towards the camera. **I’ll have you know that I’m having far too good of an eyeliner day for you to make me cry right now, Samuel Cortland.**

 **My bad.** An immediate response. It makes her heart flutter. **You have a weird little toe.**

She chokes on a laugh, **Fuck you!**

Before Sam can respond, a heaping plate of cake slides in front of her. Aelin blinks at it, looking up and into Rowan’s apologetic face.

She thinks about shoving it into his face, but that would be a waste of some perfectly good cake. Aelin could start screaming again, but there are people in here, watching The Cadre quietly and pretending to mind their own business. Besides, Malakai would be at the table in an instant to chastise them.

“This is my way of saying sorry,” Rowan starts, voice soft to keep from being overheard. Lorcan and Vaughan went outside to smoke, and the twins are in an animated battle over which Spider-Man was the best Spider-Man. 

It’s just the two of them, trying not to be overheard by other patrons.

Aelin wears her coldest expression as she watches Rowan watch her. He passes her a fork without breaking eye contact, and Aelin waits, declining to accept the utensil from him.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan says at last. His eyes are open and vulnerable. Aelin thinks that’s not fair, how he can give her nothing more than a look, and she wants to forgive him. 

Aelin has to grit her teeth to keep from accepting the apology. She reminds herself that she’s still pissed at him, dammit. He was a dick, and a piece of cake isn’t going to make up for the fact that he walked out instead of talking to her. That she opened up—even just a little—and he rebuffed it. _Left without a word._

Rowan sighs, setting down the fork. She’s stubborn as fuck, and he knows it.

“You were right,” he admits. Aelin sucks in a breath in surprise. “I _was_ jealous.”

Rowan locks his jaw, but Aelin recognizes that it’s because he’s having trouble expressing himself, not that he’s being a stubborn chauvinistic asshole. 

She waits for him.

“I-I think it took me by surprise,” he continues. “I know it’s just as fucked up as it sounds, but I’ve… never had to share you before—with someone else. You don’t get serious about guys. Ever.”

Aelin raises one brow to tell him she agrees. It is a fucked up thing to say. 

Rowan flashes her that wry smile again, “You’re my best friend, and I want you to be happy, but, uh, I’m not used to it. That floppy-haired kid joined the tour, and you started spending your time with him instead. Coffee runs. Post-show time. You started _writing_ with him.”

“I-I,” Aelin sighs, running her fingers through her hair. “I invited you along. It was weird—writing without you. Not terrible, but weird.”

“I didn’t want to be a third wheel.” That faint smile holds, “It didn’t even occur to me what it was I was feeling until you called me out on it—like you always do.”

“Well, yeah,” Aelin says, picking up the fork at last. “Because you were being a fucking dick, Buzzard.”

Rowan smiles at the use of his nickname. They fight a lot. If they held every little thing against one another, their friendship wouldn’t hold. Aelin thinks that the conversation they’re having right now isn’t finished, but she doesn’t know if they could ever finish it.

Not without tearing down everything they’ve built, without risking their lives the way they are, hoping they made it through to the other side in one piece. Aelin doesn’t want to risk it, doesn’t want to lose Rowan. She fucks everything up. This wouldn’t be any different.

Besides, Rowan loves Lyria. And she has Sam.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Aelin,” Rowan repeats for good measure as Aelin breaks off a bite of cake. “For the shit I said. For all of it. You don’t stick your nose in my personal shit—most of the time—and I shouldn’t do it to you either.”

“Damn right,” Aelin agrees, and Rowan laughs, grabbing a fork and aiming for her plate.

“Uh, uh,” she slides the plate away from him, out of his reach. Rowan pouts. “This is my apology cake. You can go get your own cake.”

“That’s a lot of food, Ace,” he observes, but a smile plays at his lips. “You sure you can eat that much?”

Aelin grins like the devil, “We’re about to find out.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares selfie with cake: DIET’S OVER, BITCHES.**

When Aelin returns back to her apartment that night, she barely recognizes it. Everything is pristine and clean, which in itself is weird enough, but what really gets her, really messes with Aelin’s head, is the silence.

There’s no one here—just Aelin.

Aedion stayed at the apartment for a little while, just long enough to get settled into his new life, working with her parents. Yet, while Aelin was out on tour, he found a new apartment, moved, and apparently gave her apartment the deep cleaning it was in such need of. Aelin didn’t deserve her cousin.

“Home sweet home,” she muses, dropping her bags to the floor.

Her mother’s voice tells her to unpack her things and start laundry, but Aelin abandons the luggage in the foyer and shuffles towards her bedroom. She just wants to shower and sleep for forever and a day.

She’s exhausted. Mentally. Physically.

Aelin thinks that maybe the rockstar life isn’t everything she thought it would be. There’s a lot of loneliness involved. A lot of time spent smiling for strangers who know her name but don’t know _her_. 

It’ll be nice to get out of the spotlight for a while, to step back and spend some time with her family. Maybe she’ll get a dog or something, start running. Aelin used to like running.

Tomorrow, she decides. Aelin will figure all of that out tomorrow. For now, she rests. 

###  **Ashryver Inc—the legacy rockstar Aelin Galathynius left behind to pursue music.**

Aelin stares at the brunch menu and slides her shades up her nose. In the background, she listens to her parents, sitting across from her, as they debate over what they should order. Fruit salad, her mother suggests. A double order of pancakes, her father votes.

Personally, Aelin has her eye on the messiest, greasiest breakfast sandwich she can get her hands on. She tells her parents as much, and the two of them have vastly different reactions. 

Rhoe Galathynius grins a familiar roguish smile at his daughter, “I like that idea.”

“Honestly,” Evalin starts with an exasperated face, “I don’t know how the two of you are still _breathing_. The way the two of you eat.”

Aelin’s mother scrunches up her face to make her point, and Aelin and her father throw their heads back and laugh in an identical manner. Evalin looks between her husband and daughter, smiling softly. She loves them, even if they drive her nuts.

“Well, it doesn’t look like I’ve missed too much,” Aedion observes as he claims the seat next to Aelin. He ruffles Aelin’s hair, and she slaps his hands away quickly. She takes back every nice thought she’s ever had about her cousin.

“Ah, Aedion,” Evalin exclaims happily. “Help me convince these two to order something besides fat and cheese.”

Aedion’s eyes light up, “How about bread _and_ fat _and_ cheese?”

“Oh, you’re no help,” Aelin’s mother complains. The trio crow with laughter.

Then the flashing starts.

“Son of a—” Aelin just barely manages not to finish the swear.

“Just ignore them,” her mother says through a smile. “They’ll go away so long as we don’t give fuel to the fire.”

“They’d go away faster,” Aedion growls low, “if I fucking decked them.”

“We should’ve ordered in,” Aelin laments. She just got back from being on tour, from being in the public eye every night for nearly a year. The last thing Aelin wants right now are a bunch of pictures of her fucking _eating_ all over tomorrow’s magazines.

“Aelin, you shouldn’t have to hide in your apartment all of the time,” her father tells her firmly, brows close-knit. “You should be able to go out and have breakfast with your family. That’s what you’re doing. It’s not that exciting; perhaps, they’ll go away quickly.”

“Aelin!” Someone shouts, and it takes a monumental effort not to look their way. Fuckers. “Is it true you’re dating Sam Cortland?”

The family goes still, trying to ignore the intrusive question.

Evalin talks through her smile again, too quiet to be heard, “It’s an excellent question, though, dear. Are you dating that cute boy? He’s got a lovely smile.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Aelin hisses. “So, not the right time to ask if I’m dating anyone.”

“You know, I always thought you and Rowan would end up together,” Evalin muses, completely ignoring her daughter. “But he sure seems serious about that Lyria girl.”

“ _Mom_.”

More flashes. Aedion growls again. Her father seems to agree this time, patience wearing thin.

“Aelin!” The persistent man calls her name again. This time she flinches. She hates this. “Did you give him a _hell of a night_?”

Time goes still. For a moment, Aelin doesn’t hear anything, but she sees how her mother’s smile, amused from giving her daughter trouble, falters. She sees it when her dad’s eyes go vacant, hearing how his daughter has become nothing more than something to objectify. Aedion’s hands turn to fists and his jaw locks, the muscle at the corner fluttering with the effort.

 _Ignore them until they go away_ , the publicist always tells them.

“C’mon, Aelin,” the man continues. “Give us something!”

Time speeds back up. Aelin launches herself from the table, nothing more than a flash of blonde hair, and marches in the direction of the paparazzi. There’s a gaggle of them there on the sidewalk, but only one holds their ground as she nears.

Her tormentor grins, “Was it—”

Aelin’s fist collides with his snide face before he can finish. The man lands on his ass, camera clattering to the ground beside him. Her mother cries her name, but Aelin doesn’t hear it.

“What kind of piece of shit are you?” Aelin growls, prowling after him. The other photogs keep snapping pictures, eating up the moment. “You get off on embarrassing women with invasive personal questions? On embarrassing their parents while they’re just trying to have dinner with their fucking daughter?”

The man stutters. “You fucking _bitch_ ,” he sneers.

Aelin growls at him, seeing red. She’s so fucking pissed that she doesn’t even care that she just assaulted a guy, doesn’t care about how much trouble she’s in. She’s two seconds away from launching her whole body at him when Aedion’s arms wrap around her waist, stopping her.

“Aelin,” her cousin says into her ear. “We need to leave—now.”

There’s something in her cousin’s voice that reaches her, something that makes Aelin back down enough for Aedion to lead her away from the curb and towards the car. Her parents are right on their trail. Her father is on the phone with someone; her mother’s face is grave with worry.

“Shit,” Aelin swears as she sits in the car with her cousin. “I’m in a lot of fucking trouble, aren’t?”

###  **Breaking News: The Cadre’s front woman, Aelin Galathynius, charged with assault.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! the last scene of this chapter was the first scene i wrote for this fic… and then it was a whole “how in the heck did we end up here tho?” scenario. right, so. *posts this and runs away from the internet*

###  **Hit by a girl: paparazzi accused of sexually harassing Aelin Galathynius drops charges of assault, damage of property.**

It turns out that Aelin has a very, very good lawyer on retainer. Or, her parents do anyway. Rhoe calls the man up immediately and sets things into motion. Yes, Aelin did assault a paparazzi. Yes, she drew the first blow. Yes, the man was harassing her.

“And I’ll fucking hit him again if I ever see him!” Aelin swears, voice exploding from her lungs, filling the sleek living room of her family home. Aedion and her parents took her straight there after brunch. Aelin didn’t get to even pack.

And she didn’t get her sandwich.

“Fireheart,” her mother sighs, sitting beside Aelin and taking her hand. “Even if the guy deserved it, you can’t just _hit people_.”

“What am I? Like six?” Aelin hisses at her mother. She’s mad, and she thinks she might be about to cry. That makes her madder.

“Aelin,” her father attracts her attention. “You got very, very lucky.”

“Fuck this,” she swears, rising from the couch and breaking free of her mother’s grasp. “That guy doesn’t get to play victim after saying the shit he did. That’s not fair. He wouldn’t dare say that kind of thing to one of the guys—to any guy.”

Evalin’s face is drawn tight. It’s been a few days since the _altercation_ as they’re calling it. Aelin was under strict orders to lie low, and there wasn’t any place lower to hide than in the country with her parents.

Aedion breaks the tense silence with a laugh.

The rest of the family stares at him as he regains his composure enough to say, “Ace, you fucking knocked that guy on his ass.”

A smile threatens her lips despite herself, “Fuck, yeah. I did.”

Rhoe chuckles from his armchair, “That’s my girl.”

“ _Language_ ,” her mother chastises, but even Evalin is smiling.

###  **Sam Cortland’s single _Bellhaven_ goes platinum!**

“Ace, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“Eh, it’s all over now. Bastard got hit by a girl and had his pride hurt,” Aelin tries to play off the close call. At least it doesn’t seem like Adarlan Records wants to meet to scold her, so that’s nice.

It took Aelin way longer than she will ever admit to, to find a way to video chat with Sam without revealing any embarrassing secrets about her childhood to him. Her old stuffed animals and band posters were so not sexy.

Sam’s eyes light up as if he’s had the same thought, “So… This is Aelin Galathynius’s childhood bedroom, right? Can I see it?”

“Absolutely not,” Aelin responds immediately, and Sam bursts into laughter. “You have to at least buy me dinner first.”

She regrets the words as soon as he frowns. Aelin waits for him to say what he’s thinking. It’s different than with Rowan; Sam doesn’t have the same walls.

“I wish I could,” he tells her sadly. “I’d kill to be there with you right now. I know this is a huge deal—I’m about to _headline my own tour_ , but all I’m thinking about is how I’d like to be curled up with you right now. In the countryside.”

“You’d love it here,” Aelin tells him softly, agreeing. “I get bored, but you could make it more interesting.”

She wiggles her eyebrows in suggestion. Sam smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It makes Aelin’s heart clench in her chest. “I wish I could.”

“Hey,” she says, trying to find a solution to the problem. “What if I came to visit you? Once you got settled back into the tour life and whatnot?”

Aelin second-guesses herself almost immediately. “I mean if that’s okay with you obviously. I don’t want to crash your—”

“I would love that,” Sam tells her with a genuine smile this time. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam scowls at something Aelin can’t see off-screen. “Hey, I have to go now, but text me some of the dates you’re free, and we can work something out. I’ll get you on the list.”

“Absolutely,” Aelin tells him with a smile. “Go be famous and stuff.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Miss you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she teases, but she’s frowning.

“Bye, Ace.”

“Bye.” The camera goes dark.

###  **The Secret to The Cadre’s success: Co-writers Aelin G. and Rowan W. share their writing rituals.**

“Honestly,” Aelin says, kicking her feet in the air as she lays on her stomach. “All these paparazzi can suck my dick.”

Rowan chokes on the drink in his mouth at her words, and Aelin watches as Lyria cracks the faintest of smiles beside him. She’s growing on her, Lyria, as much as Aelin hates to admit it.

“Tell me the guy’s name, and I’ll kill him,” Rowan promises. His girlfriend’s smile falters at the pure wrath in Rowan’s voice, that protective instinct that sits so firmly in Aelin’s best friend’s heart.

“Buzzard,” Aelin scolds. “I’ve already gotten into enough hot water. We can’t both be on the outs—not at the same time anyway.”

“Fuck that,” Rowan swears. His eyes are twin green flames. Aelin thinks they’re stunning like this, burning with passion. “Some asshole on the street started making comments at you—about you. He _deserved_ to get decked. Deserves worse.”

“And he did,” Aelin shrugs her shoulders. “No biggie.”

Lyria sits quietly beside Rowan. “I’m happy it all worked out for you, though, Aelin. We were worried.”

“Thanks. Me, too,” Aelin says. “I just wish I wasn’t trapped in this hellhole.”

“Well, at least you have Mr. Snuggles still there to keep you company,” Rowan tells her with that sly smile Aelin likes so much.

She glares at him, “How dare you bring up _Mr. Snuggles_ in front of someone else!”

“Don’t take it personally, L,” Rowan tells his girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her and holding her close. Lyria laughs softly and rests her head on his shoulder, “Ace gets defensive about Mr. Snuggles.”

“Traitor. I should hang up on you,” Aelin declares. Rowan just smiles, raising a brow in silent question. She sighs, “Yeah, he’s here.”

“Who’s Mr. Snuggles?” Lyria asks, fighting off a smile.

Aelin aims the camera towards the far wall. A medium-sized teddy bear sits atop the dresser there, well-worn and well-loved.

“Aww,” Lyria coos, and Aelin frowns at Rowan, communicating her disappointment in him through the camera. Her best friend just laughs, happy to embarrass her whenever possible. Things have been good between them again, Aelin thinks. It’s… nice. To be back to normal.

Whatever their normal is.

###  **Lorcan Salvaterre on bandmate’s recent paparazzi run-in: “I think he deserved more than what he got, so he better count himself lucky. Now fuck off.”**

“Oh, hey, Lyria,” Aelin greets Rowan’s girlfriend with just a little surprise.

It’s been a few weeks since her “altercation.” She and Aedion worked diligently to sneak her back into her apartment without being spotted by the paparazzi. It would take a while for those vultures to find something else to heckle about, and in the meantime, Aelin was to keep lying low.

That worked for her, though. The band has a while before the record company will start pushing for new music, and while Aelin’s been in hiding, the band’s been enjoying lounging around and threatening journalists. The very best of rockstar behavior.

Aelin’s been sleeping and, well, sleeping through her exile. She’s barely just started crawling out of her mandatory post-tour one-week hibernation, the start of which was delayed by the assault charge drama.

“Hey,” the shier woman breathes. Lyria’s brown eyes give away all of her nerves, so Aelin flashes her a reassuring smile, “Do you mind if I come in?”

“On one condition,” Aelin says ominously, and the other woman’s confidence falters. Aelin only feels a little bad about it. “You cannot judge me for my state of living.”

Lyria’s laugh is breathless and nervous, “Of course not. Rowan always complains about how messy you are.”

“Rowan is a grumpy, old buzzard,” Aelin grumbles. This time Lyria’s smile is more genuine. “Right, c’mon in. We can both pretend I have something edible for us.”

“I promise not to take up too much of your time,” Aelin’s guest swears as she follows Aelin towards her kitchen. She pretends not to notice how wide Lyria’s eyes get at the opulence of the place; Aelin lived well before the band. It’s a thing with them.

“Not a problem,” Aelin assures her, digging into the double-sized fridge. “I’ve got plenty of time and… bottled water. You want one?”

“No, thank you,” Lyria tells her, folding her hands in front of her and setting them onto the white marble island. She looks so out of place here, Aelin thinks, dressed in her plain cotton sundress and mousy hair. Aelin doesn’t find Lyria unattractive; she’s just—not from the same world as Aelin, doesn’t worry about the same kind of things as Aelin, is more humble—

Aelin tamps down on that train of thought, even as one deadly sentence pops into her mind, echoing off of her skull and bouncing around in her head: that’s why Rowan likes her, loves her even. She’s not Aelin. It’s easy, _simple_ , to love her.

Lyria takes a deep breath, and Aelin pauses in the guzzling of her water bottle. This is serious, whatever Lyria has come her for, without Rowan. What if they just got into a fight, and now Lyria was here to argue her case, to try and get the best friend on her side? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Lyria would do, and yet—

Gods, she wishes she’d checked her phone before answering the door. A common problem. Maybe someday Aelin will learn.

“I need you to distance yourself from Rowan.”

Aelin nearly chokes on the water in her mouth. Now _that_ she was not expecting.

“What?” she manages to rasp.

Lyria’s turned beet red underneath her olive skin. The woman wrings her hands for a long pause, and then she manages, “Rowan. I need you to stay away from him.”

“I think this is a conversation you should be having with Rowan,” Aelin says coldly, dangerously. If possible, Lyria flushes even more. The woman runs a hand through her shaggy brown hair and then down her face, while Aelin grips her water bottle so tightly the water threatens to spill out of the uncapped top.

What the fuck, Aelin thinks. This is so not right. Also, _fuck_ her.

Fuck. Aelin and Rowan just finally decided to put all their bullshit aside, and now this?

“Rowan wouldn’t hear me out if I tried to talk to him about this,” Lyria admits guiltily. Aelin is both prideful of her best friend and furious at the gull of the woman in front of her. It’s shameful to go behind your significant other’s back like this, manipulate his relationships, for what—jealousy?

Fucking _jealousy_.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t be talking about it,” Aelin’s words are clipped.

She’s surprised when Lyria turns that burning gaze on her. Now, this is the Lyria Rowan’s mentioned in the past, the one brave enough to stand up to him when he’s an ass. Aelin stands straighter under that gaze and prepares to fight—

“I love him,” she breathes. Aelin deflates at the sound of desperation in Lyria’s voice. “I love him, and Rowan loves you, not me.”

Aelin sucks in a breath. No one’s ever had the balls to say that to her face before, especially not herself.

She chooses her next words carefully, holding Lyria’s nervous gaze, “I’m Rowan’s best friend, of course, he cares about me, but—”

“No,” Lyria interrupts. Those folded hands have turned into fists, resting against the pristine marble countertop and telling Aelin everything that Lyria doesn’t have the words for. She’s come prepared for a fight. A fight to keep her boyfriend.

_Shit_.

“You’re Rowan’s world,” Lyria argues. “Everything is always Aelin-this or Aelin-that or this-one-time-Aelin-and-I… You’re everything to him, and I—I need you not to be.”

Aelin’s blood is rushing in her ears, thrumming to the beat of her heart. Her mouth has gone dry, and for once in her life, Aelin doesn’t know what to say.

“Look,” Aelin swallows around the lump in her throat, searching for the right words to a very delicate situation. This could all go so very, very wrong. “I’m sorry if you feel that way, but Rowan and I are just friends. If you feel otherwise, you should really talk it over with him. Rowan isn’t the kind of guy that does the whole run-around drama thing. He’s direct with his problems.”

Most problems, she adds silently.

“I know about the kiss,” the woman admits, quickly. Aelin’s eyes go wide. “Or about the almost kiss. Rowan—he told me.”

Aelin freezes, going cold with shock. And— _betrayal_. Alright, that would make two things she didn’t see coming. Fuck, Aelin is never answering her front door _ever again_. No more unexpected visitors.

Aelin sighs. “Look, just let that be a poster board for why not to do drugs, alright? It was a one-off. Not going to happen again. Besides, it’s been _years_.”

“You know that isn’t true,” Lyria disagrees, tears line her eyes and her voice. “It’s in all of your songs, in how Rowan looks at you, how you look—”

“Lyria,” Aelin stops the woman from digging their graves any deeper. “I’m not comfortable having this discussion with you. Not behind Rowan’s back. And we are doing this behind his back, am I right?”

“I’m pregnant,” Lyria breathes. Aelin’s heart stops in her chest, and an overwhelming sense of grief takes her. Pregnant—Rowan’s having a baby. “I’m pregnant, and I need him.”

“Rowan isn’t going to-to ditch you or some shit,” Aelin promises the woman. “Not for a second. He’s—good.”

“For you, he would,” Lyria says through the tears silently running down her face. “Rowan would move the world for you if he could.”

Aelin can’t look at her unwelcome guest any longer. Instead, she focuses her vision on the chandelier; she notices that the image is blurry, that she can’t make out the crystal sconces any more. She’s crying, too, it would seem.

“I just—” Lyria’s voice breaks. It makes Aelin a little less inclined to rip the woman apart for waltzing in here and destroying Aelin’s whole world with two words. “I can’t do this alone, and I need him… with me. Can you do that for me? For Rowan’s baby?”

Something in Aelin breaks. She thinks it’s her heart.

“Get out,” she seethes, but the words hold no real venom. Aelin wipes at her face. “Get out of my house.”

Lyria’s eyes go wide. Aelin repeats herself, crueler than she’s ever been in front of Lyria, the mother of Rowan’s child. “I _said_ : get out of my house.”

She doesn’t feel bad for chasing away the pregnant woman, for making her wait in the lobby for her cab. Aelin lives in an urban mansion. The doorman will keep her company, keep her safe until her ride arrives. Aelin stares down at the street below her, waiting for the blur of a figure she thinks is Lyria to leave.

And then she cries.

###  **Aelin Galathynius vacations in the countryside to escape the drama.**


	14. Chapter 14

###  **Spotted: Aelin Galathynius and Lysandra Ennar at Mistward Club.**

“So,” Lysandra purrs as she takes the seat across from Aelin. The flashing lights from the dance floor turn her smooth skin into a kaleidoscope of colors. “What’s the occasion? I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, but this invite came out of nowhere.”

They’re at Mistward, and the music is way too fucking loud, but Aelin feels at home here, safe. This is where the band played its first gig, back when no one knew their name or gave a shit. Now she has to pay for a private booth on the VIP floor to avoid unwanted attention, to get some privacy.

Shit, how things change.

“Lyria’s pregnant,” Aelin blurts before she can think it through. Lyria’s emerald eyes go wide, but she doesn’t miss a beat.

“Tequila,” she tells the waitress, waving her over urgently. Lysandra bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks it over, then adds, “Send us the whole fucking bottle—two bottles.”

Aelin flashes the waitress a nervous smile and returns to shredding the little paper coasters left on the table. She’s already picked apart her cuticles, chipped off all her nail polish. Aelin has dinner with her parents tomorrow; she’ll need to see if she can get them saved before her mother sees them.

Fuck, she’s going to have to tell her _mother._

Lysandra leans back into the booth, drinking in her friend’s mood. “You’re freaking out.”

“Yeah, I’m freaking out!” Aelin exclaims, slapping her hands onto the table. She’s thankful for the loud music that provides cover for her big mouth. She can only imagine the kind of chaos that would erupt if the press caught wind of this story. Fuck, this conversation. “Am I supposed to _not_ be freaking out?”

A shrug, “People have babies with each other all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Aelin gapes at her friend, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Lysandra explains, pausing as the waitress returns with the alcohol. The supermodel waves off the waitress and begins to serve both herself and Aelin a shot. Lys takes hers before continuing, “It doesn’t change anything. You, two idiots, are destined to be together. So, there’s a baby mama involved… Welcome to the 21st century.”

A nonchalant shrug.

“I’m not getting together with Rowan, Lys,” Aelin hisses around her own shot. Shit, that burns. Holy hell. She slams the glass to the ground and winces. “That’s so not what this is about.”

“Then what _is_ this about?” Lysandra asks innocently, pouring another round of shots. Aelin probably should order some food before she keeps hitting the alcohol. She’s not had enough to eat since Lyria came to the apartment; she hasn’t had the appetite.

Aelin blinks at her best female friend. She’s never really had a girl for a friend before; it kind of sucks. “I hate you.”

Lysandra laughs that breathy laugh of hers and slides Aelin another shot. “Oh, you definitely will in the morning.”

###  **Shots, shots, shots. Aelin Galathynius partying again?**

“Aedion!” Aelin cheers, banging her fists on the table at the sight of her cousin. He’s grown out his hair since leaving the military; it suits him well. She’s definitely had too much to drink, but that’s what she called Aedion for.

Her cousin’s eyebrows disappear behind all that blonde hair of his at the sight of her happy face, but Aedion’s smile is filled with nothing but amusement and fondness. “You’re shitfaced, Ace.”

“I love Tequila,” she explains with a happy smile.

Lysandra chuckles, attracting Aedion’s attention to her for the first time.

Aelin sees it, the sparks that fly through the air when Lysandra’s and Aedion’s eyes meet for the first time. She’s always known her cousin to be a cocky motherfucker, but at the sight of Lysandra, Aedion goes dumb, mouth slack and eyes wide. Lysandra looks much the same, except for the knowing smile she sends his way, inviting him over with nothing more than a _look_.

Fuck, what does a girl gotta do to get that kind of moment?

“ _Addy_ ,” Aelin sing-songs to bring her cousin back to the present. Aedion struggles to tear his eyes away from Lysandra to watch Aelin wiggle her brows at him. “This is my best- _fucking_ -friend, _Lysandra_.”

Aedion claims a seat—beside Lysandra, Aelin notes. Smooth bastard. “Isn’t Rowan your best friend?”

Aelin’s face falls immediately as she’s overcome with crushing grief. All of the lights in the room go out, and everything becomes very, very dark. She needs another drink. She’s going to be sick.

“Ace?” Aedion says, catching onto her mood right away. Lysandra gives the man sitting beside her a very unimpressed look. She’s just as drunk as Aelin, in solidarity, but a bottle of Tequila can’t stop Lys from her sass.

“Now you’ve gone and ruined all my hard work,” she tells Aedion. Her cousin makes a curious face; he’s so out of the loop.

When Aelin starts crying, she finds that she can’t stop. She’s weighing the pros and cons of just smashing everything in the near vicinity. Maybe she could call Dorian and see what shit he’s up to—No, that’s a terrible idea, and it definitely won’t make her feel better.

Aedion looks devastated at the sight of Aelin’s sadness. Poor bastard. He thought his cousin was calling him for a ride home after a night of girl talk and drinks. Little did he know. Forgetting all about his intentions to flirt with Aelin’s pretty friend, Aedion switches sides, sliding in beside Aelin and wrapping her in his arms.

It makes her cry harder. Too hard to explain herself.

_Rowan’s having a baby._

###  **Drunk and crying. The Cadre’s Aelin Galathynius has a little too much to drink.**

When Rowan hunts her down the next day, Aelin already knows what he’s about to say. She lets him panic anyway, pacing around the recording space she’s set up in her apartment while she fiddles with the melody she’s working on. There are lyrics to go with it, but they’re nothing she wants to sing with Rowan in the room.

Aelin’s… mad at him. For something that Rowan hasn’t even told her about. For something that’s not completely his fault. For something, he’s clearly also panicking about. Shit, what a mess.

She waits for him to calm down. He needs Aelin right now, needs his best friend. Rowan doesn’t let those walls of his down very often, and Aelin isn’t about to wreck years of progress by shooing him because she’s feeling hurt.

Besides, Aelin can’t tell him that she already knows, that Lyria came to her apartment secretly to beg Aelin to get out of the picture—for good. She doesn’t know how Rowan would handle that situation, or rather, she’s not sure she wants to find out.

_He would move the world for you_ , Lyria’s words echo in her head. A haunting melody that Aelin can’t forget.

Before, if someone tried to put themselves between their unexpected friendship, Aelin and Rowan would batten down the hatches, turning their friendship into an unconquerable fortress. They shut out the threats; they protected their own.

Now there’s a baby involved, and if the mother of the child didn’t want Aelin around, would Rowan meet that request? Or worse, would he leave her for Aelin? Their friendship?

No. Of course, he wouldn’t. Rowan would never risk his involvement in his child’s life, and Aelin isn’t about to do something to make him want to, say something that would only make him feel guilty.

“Lyria is pregnant,” Rowan says after falling to the couch cushion beside her.

Aelin acts shocked. She thinks it comes so easily to her because she still hasn’t recovered from the conversation she had yesterday.

“Fuck,” is what she comes up with.

“I think that’s what got me into this mess, Ace,” Rowan flashes her a wan smile.

Aelin pretends that her stomach doesn’t turn with the thought, not after all of the hell she gave him about sticking his nose into her business with Sam. It’s been _years_. Only yesterday, Aelin swore to Lyria that there was nothing between them, and yet, just the thought of Rowan being with someone else makes Aelin feel unsteady. It’s why she usually just pretends not to notice.

Fuck.

“What are you going to do?” She asks. It’s not intended to sound so ominous, but Rowan shoots her a look of incredulity. “I mean, has she decided to keep it?”

Of course, Aelin already knows the answer to this as well. Lyria traveled across town to corner Aelin about it; so, she must have made her mind up already. Potentially before even telling Rowan about the baby. Yet, maybe, just maybe, Lyria’s terse conversation with Aelin caused her to change her mind. Maybe Rowan reacted poorly, as he often does—so poorly that Lyria reconsidered this whole thing altogether.

A foolish, fucked up hope. And yet.

“Yeah,” Rowan sighs, running his hand through his long silver hair. Aelin takes advantage of his distraction to admire the way his hair contrasts with his skin, complemented by those glowing green eyes. “Yeah, she’s going to keep it.”

“So,” Aelin sucks in a breath, forcing a smile for the sake of her best friend in the whole fucking world. She thinks she pulls it off. “You’re going to be a dad.”

The smile that breaks out across Rowan’s face shatters Aelin’s already broken heart. He looks ecstatic. Rowan doesn’t smile like that very often, even with Aelin.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius touches down in Erilea, visiting Sam Cortland?**

Aelin surprises Sam at his soundcheck. He knows she’s on her way, but as far as Sam knows, Aelin is in the air, somewhere over the ocean, getting champagne drunk on her private flight. He doesn’t expect here to be right there with him, standing in the wing and watching him work.

The flashback that hits her makes Aelin a little dizzy. It’s disorienting to think that three months ago the name Sam Cortland didn’t mean a damn thing to her. Aelin didn’t know who he was. Sam was some up and coming artist in Erilea all those months ago; he was way off of Aelin’s radar.

Now… he was _Sam_.

“Did that sound any better?” his soft accent fills the space as the music fades, washing over her. She’s missed that voice.

“It sounded terrible,” Aelin drawls from where she hides just offstage. Sam’s head snaps in her direction in surprise, and she can’t help the smirk that slides onto her face. “There was far too much emotion, and your guitar playing was just _terrible_.”

“Says the girl that cries on stage,” he quips back, grinning like a thief.

Aelin laughs as she says, “ _Rude_.”

Sam hands off the guitar to a stagehand and wanders her way. Aelin smiles so hard that her face hurts. Shit, she missed him.

So, Aelin is pretty disappointed when the guitarist stops just shy of her personal space. She’s dying for some affection, for at least a hug or something. The feeling must show on her face; Sam leans close, whispering, “I don’t know if I’m allowed to kiss you or not with all these people watching… But I’d really like to.”

Oh, well, that makes sense. Aelin eyes the people around them skeptically. She wonders at which one of these people will be the one to sell the story to the tabloid. NDAs are pretty standard on tours, but that doesn’t stop a good leak.

And then Aelin decides: who fucking cares?

“I think I already punched a guy who asked about our sex life,” Aelin tells Sam with a secret smile. “So, it’s probably not going to be that surprising if you kiss me.”

Sam grins and closes the distance between them. Aelin doesn’t fight the instinct to arch into his embrace, biting her lip to fight the happy smile at having him close. The last few days have been shit, and Aelin’s missed Sam, missed the ease of being with him. There’s no judgment or second-guessing. With Sam, everything’s laid out.

She’s the one with secrets, buried so deep that even she can barely see them.

###  **Aelin Galathynius and Sam Cortland: dating rumors escalate as fans spot Aelin at concert.**

Aelin has been expecting this meeting for a while now; she already knows what it's about. It’s been coming. The band has been working for practically four years straight, in one way or another. They’ve spent most of that time touring.

Write the music, sell the album, go on tour. Write the music, sell the albums, go on tour. It was time to do it all a third time.

Yet, they’re beaten, a kind of bone-tired exhaustion that makes them weary. Life moments have been missed. Birthdays have been spent on tour buses. Weddings skipped for rehearsals.

“I…” Rowan trails off. He’s just broke news to the band that Lyria is expecting. The band was excited, but now they’re nervous. Everyone can feel it in the air.

Aelin is too. She’s not ready for him to say it.

“I can’t tour next year,” Rowan tells them. “And I think I have to skip out on the festival circuit. I need to be here. For Lyria.”

Silence. There’s no disapproval. Just sadness. Things are changing.

“I talked it over with Gav,” Rowan says quietly. “He said we can’t back out of the festivals, but that we can put off another album—for a little while.”

Aelin can sense the but.

“In a year and a half, I’ll have a baby,” Rowan runs his hand through his hair, again. It’s the biggest tell that he’s stressed. “I-I can’t leave Lyria on her own, to fend for herself with a kid that young, and I don’t think I can make the next tour either.”

Aelin’s heart twists.

“He suggested I leave the band.”

The news makes her see red. How dare Gavriel make a call like that for them? Without them? Aelin doesn’t want to tour without Rowan. The band isn’t the band without Rowan.

“Fuck that,” Lorcan hisses, agreeing with her thoughts. The rest of the band looks to Aelin, their second leader, and waits for her reaction.

“So we take a hiatus,” she decides, voice carefully neutral. “We’ve been working our asses off for years now. We deserve a break. We’ve earned it.

“Rowan will spend some time—He’ll have the baby. Lor can work on that ugly face of his. The twins will become YouTube stars without us, and Vaughan, you can do… whatever it is that you do.”

“I’m writing a book,” he responds.

“Word,” Aelin says. That… explains a lot of things. “And I’ll… get fat again.”

Rowan lets out a breath of laughter.

“Like you’ve ever been fat a day in your life, Aelin,” he says. His eyes sparkle with familiar exasperation, and they contrast so strongly with all the hard lines he wears in his face these days. Aelin doesn’t like to see him like this. So… torn.

Aelin continues, “We’re a family. We’ll weather this period just like any other. Fuck, you guys stuck through my bullshit last summer. Just wait, Buzzard. We’ll all be there for you—to help utterly corrupt this kid of yours.”

Rowan rolls his eyes at her, but there's a smile twitching on his lip. Sad though it is.

“The band will be here when we’re ready to come back,” she continues, holding his gaze longer than necessary, communicating the words Aelin can’t say aloud. _We’ll be here when_ you’re _ready. I will be._

###  **HIATUS: The Cadre to step away from touring indefinitely.**


	15. Chapter 15

###  **The Cadre finishes their final performance** _ **for now**_ **—minus lead guitarist, Rowan Whitethorn.**

Aelin does get fat—just a little bit anyway. If she’s not going on a massive tour next year, perform six two-hour shows a week, then Aelin is free to get a little bit out of shape. So, she allows herself to eat all of the bread and dairy that her heart so desires. And sugar—Fuck, she loves sugar.

Her voice is absolutely hating her for the abuse, but these are hard times. Aelin deserves all of the indulgence she can get.

“So,” Evalin Galathynius asks coyly, pretending at innocence as she browses the clothing store they’re at. Aelin has to roll her eyes behind the safety of her shades. Her mother is impossible. And so, so obvious.

“How’s that cute, brown-eyed boy doing?”

“He’s fine,” is Aelin’s short, vague answer. She’s been intentionally evasive of the matter; she doesn’t want her mother getting involved. The nosey woman.

Evalin isn’t having it, though. She persists. “When do I get to meet him? If he’s dating my _only_ child, I should at least get to meet him.”

“You don’t get to play the only child card against me, Mom,” Aelin informs her, already exasperated. “It’s _your_ fault that I don’t have any siblings. Not mine.”

“You think I wanted to risk having a second hellion on my hands?” Evalin says defensively, but she’s smiling. “I could barely handle you. And then we got custody of Aedion.”

They’re quiet for a minute, paying their silent respects to Evalin’s sister. Aelin’s aunt.

Aelin breaks the somber mood, “So, one could argue that you do, in fact, have _two_ children. Why aren’t you asking Aedion about Lysandra?”

Her mother’s eyes go wide. “Who?”

A rouge grin breaks out across Aelin’s face. Lysandra won’t mind; she’s excellent with new people. That woman hardly gives a shit if someone doesn’t like her. Aedion, on the other hand… Aelin might want to change her locks.

“See? This is why there’s only one of you,” Aelin’s mother shakes her head. “My heart couldn’t handle a second one of you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Aelin says dryly. Her mother shrugs one delicate shoulder, and they keep shopping.

“So,” Evalin begins gently. Again. Aelin’s been waiting for this moment, but she tenses anyway. “I heard about Rowan... Is it true? Is he having a baby?”

“So, the doctors say.” Rowan sent her a picture the other day. It looks like absolutely nothing, but the blurry black and white image was enough to make her chest ache anyway. Aelin didn’t know it was possible to be _so sad_ and _so happy_ at the same time.

Aelin’s mother nods. “And... how does that make you feel?”

She shoots her mother a look, but Evalin holds her daughter’s gaze, worried.

Aelin sighs. She knows that her mother won’t give the topic up until she’s satisfied, “I’m happy for him. Rowan… He’s always wanted kids. He used to volunteer for little league—before we made it big, and he attracted too much attention.”

A fond smile from her mother. “He’ll make a good dad, don’t you think?”

Aelin nods, eyes stinging behind her shades. It’s not Evalin’s fault; she doesn’t know how this conversation hurts her daughter. And the only one to blame for that is Aelin. 

She’s quiet for a while, picking up and putting down a pair of blue jeans. Aelin already owns a lifetime supply of the staple, but could you really have enough pairs of jeans?

Aelin sighs. She doesn’t know what she’s feeling, doesn’t know how to express it. Aelin’s tried to do so, tried to put pen to paper and just _get it all out of her system_ , but the pages remained blank. Every time.

Evalin seems to see this all anyway. She always does.

“I for one,” her mother says, adopting a very familiar playful tone, “would just kill for some grand babies to spoil. Any chance of that happening soon?”

Aelin scoffs. Fuck. _Children._ Aelin can barely keep a plant alive.

“Well, you might have a chance through Aedion, anyway,” Aelin decides to deflect back towards her cousin. She really doesn’t want to give her mother any false hope. She’s way far from that ever happening, even if she thinks things are starting to get real with Sam.

“Lys and Aedion’s faces are practically glued together,” Aelin shares, and Evalin snorts. Her mother is trying to pretend to be grossed out by the image, but she’s happy to hear the good news. Of course, she is. Evalin just wants everyone happy.

Aelin wishes she could be happy. For her mom.

Evalin laughs, “I’ll have to call that boy. Always keeping secrets from me.”

“How _dare he_ ,” Aelin echoes, and her mother laughs again.

Aelin wears the ghost of a smile throughout the rest of their shopping. Suddenly, she doesn’t really feel like buying anything. _Kids_. It’s not something she’s ever really thought of before. It was always abstract. Something Aelin could do one day, when she felt like it, when she got around to it.

She still could. There’s more than enough time. Aelin is far too young to be thinking her chances are over. Yet, she’s starting to doubt that she’ll ever find someone that she’d want to have kids with.

It’s probably a sign that she doesn’t think of Sam as being on that list.

###  **Lysandra Ennar is off the market!**

She’s is laying down another track for another artist when Aelin sees him again. Arobynn Hamel waltzes into her recording studio like he fucking owns it, smiling that sharp smile and drinking her in with his oily eyes. Damn, Aelin forgot how much she fucking hated this guy.

“Private session,” she calls over her shoulder, only sparing enough of a glance to identify him.

Aelin considers punching his lights out, but lawyer fees are really, really expensive. Like holy fucking _hell_ expensive _._ She went into the wrong business.

Arobynn decides not to answer her, which only pisses Aelin off more. She continues to fuss with the keyboard; she hopes that if she chooses to ignore him that Arobynn will take the fucking hint and get out of her space.

She’s trying to decide on which key she likes this song in. Aelin is pretty sure she likes the one its in, but will the artist she’s writing for sound good singing in it? What do they sound like again? Shit.

And something’s just _missing_ from it. Aelin can’t figure out what.

“Your band broke up,” he says, at last, head tilted to one side.

“Not broken,” Aelin grits her teeth. Fuck, she hates this guy. “We’re on a break.”

The words sound weird to even her ears. Fans have been pouring in their messages from all over and through every platform. Condolences. Aelin feels guilty, like she’s somehow let them all down with the news. 

“Right,” Arobynn says, sounding utterly unconvinced by her excuses. “So, you’ve got some free time on your hands these days.”

“Nope,” she says. “I’m still working. No break for me.”

Besides, Aelin is afraid that if she stops, she’ll fall to pieces. She figures that as long as she keeps moving, keeps working and writing, the truth won’t be able to catch up with her. She knows that she can outrun whatever feeling this is that’s chasing after her—this overwhelming sense of grief and hurt and loss.

The band is on hiatus. Aelin isn’t going on tour. There’s no new album to write. _And Rowan is having a baby with Lyria._

“I thought, in light of certain developments, you might want to reconsider my offer,” Arobynn continues.

“To be famous?” Aelin asks cruelly. She flashes the man the most unimpressed look she can spare, looking down her nose at him. “Take a look at the internet, dude. We _are_ famous. _I’m famous_. I did it—without you. All on my own.”

That smile of knives, again. “You could go farther still. Don’t tell me you’ve given up already? That the loss of your little… _co-leader_ has done you in.”

The mention of Rowan, the reminder of the fact that he isn’t working alongside her right now, arguing over the proper fucking key to sing this stupid ass song in, nearly bowls her over. At least Aelin’s anger helps her stay upright.

“Get the fuck out,” she snarls at the man. Horrifically, Arobynn seems almost more pleased with himself at having got such a reaction out of her. He grins.

“You know where to find me if you change your mind,” he turns to leave but pauses at the door, much to Aelin’s dismay. “The key is fine, dear. Slow it down, and then you’ll have your next private jet fund.”

Arobynn leaves her with that, and Aelin scoffs at him. What the fuck does he know about writing a song? She’s not taking his advice. Screw him.

An hour later, Aelin calls Rowan for help. He tells her to slow it down.

It’s perfect. She’s pissed.

###  **Aelin Galathynius is still getting her music out there.**

Aelin recaps her experience with Arobynn the next time she and Rowan hang out. Lyria’s off doing who knows what, but Aelin is relieved to find the apartment missing her presence. She hasn’t seen the woman since Lyra showed up at her apartment, and that’s probably for the best.

“Gods, I fucking hate that guy,” Rowan growls, strumming his guitar. He isn’t even really playing anything, just messing around and enjoying his time. Aelin appreciates the sound; Rowan’s guitar playing has always managed to soothe her restless spirit, to get her to relax for a little bit.

She tried to get Rowan to reconsider skipping the festivals, but Rowan wouldn’t give in. It was admirable that he wanted to be here for his girlfriend, and Aelin couldn’t really be mad at him for it. She just missed him.

“Same,” Aelin agrees. “I keep telling him to fuck off, but he’s gotta be deaf or some shit. He sent me fucking _flowers_ the other day. Like—what the fuck? Is he courting me or something? Am I getting married? Ew.”

Rowan laughs, but the sound is strangled. She tries to get a look at his face to figure out what he’s thinking, but she’s currently hanging off the couch, upside down with her feet in the air. Aelin can’t see him from there.

“You could land yourself one hell of a deal right now, Ace, if you wanted to,” Rowan says casually, playing another melody lazily. He doesn’t look her way as he continues, “People would go fucking wild if you announced a solo album right now.”

Aelin is so startled she nearly falls off the couch. “W-what?”

A sigh. “You heard me.”

This time, Aelin does roll off the couch, landing on her butt with a grunt. Rowan shoots her that classic Aelin-Why-Are-You-Like-This-Face.

“I-I,” Aelin stutters, taken aback. Of all the people she thought might side with Arobynn, Rowan was definitely not one of them. “I’m not a solo artist, I’m—We’re The Cadre.”

Rowan’s expression turns sad. “We are. But you could also be... Aelin.”

“I’m already Aelin.”

“ _Ace_ , stop being difficult,” Rowan says, exasperated. “You’re going fucking crazy here, lurking around Doranelle and writing music for other people to sing. You aren’t meant to stay still like that—to not travel and write and perform.”

Aelin frowns. She doesn’t like it sometimes, how well Rowan can read her. That he just knows that staying put in this city is driving her nuts.

“You’re meant to go out there and sing your heart every night,” he says softly, fondly. There’s a certain longing in his voice that Aelin hears perfectly well, understands. Rowan’s sad to give up the music, too. Even if it’s only for a little while, temporary.

“You can have a family and still be a rockstar, Rowan,” Aelin points out, voice soft. She has to point it out because if she doesn’t, if it isn’t true, then what’s this life got in store for her? Will Aelin ever have a chance to have what he has? A family? Someone to come home after a tour?

Aelin thinks she probably wouldn’t like that either, though. The thought of having someone back home, always waiting on her... It just doesn’t sit well, doesn’t feel right.

“Yeah,” Rowan concedes, but his eyes tell her that he doesn’t entirely agree, doesn’t want to let himself believe it. “But how good of a father can I be on the road all of the time? I mean, look at Gavriel and Aedion. They can barely stand being in the same room together.”

“You and I both know you’d manage it a thousand times better than Gav did,” Aelin disagrees. They’re two very different people, and these are two very different situations. 

Aelin sighs, allowing a little but of her frustration to slip out. “You’re just going to give up on your dreams because you’re—what? Afraid of getting what you want? Rowan, that’s crazy.”

Rowan’s face hardens into a glacier. Apparently, she’s said something wrong, pushed a button, but Aelin doesn’t know what it is. He turns those cold green eyes on her, and Aelin’s very blood chills. Rowan grits his teeth.

“You can’t have everything you want in life, Aelin,” he grounds out. “No matter how badly you’d like to.”

Aelin remains silent, waiting. There it is again, the elephant in the room. It haunts them no matter how hard they try to ignore it, deny it, chase it away. For a moment, she thinks that maybe this is it, maybe Rowan will say it, be the braver of two cowards, and throw them both off the edge of this treacherous cliff.

What he says is: “Don’t give up our dream just because I did, Ace. Call Gav.”

###  **Did bad blood end The Cadre?**


	16. Chapter 16

###  **See Sam Cortland live! Tonight!**

Without a record to create, Aelin becomes something of a jet setter. She starts to fly between Erilea and Wendlyn regularly, splitting her time between haunting her apartment like a ghost and crashing Sam’s tour, getting the slightest taste of that high she so craves. It’s better than any drug she’s ever messed around with—performing.

Aelin finds Sam pacing around his dressing room when she reaches the stadium. He’s freaking out, which isn’t something that Sam does before a show. He’s always cool as a cucumber before going onstage; it’s something that frustrates Aelin to no end. She has to pee just _thinking_ about performing live.

“What’s up?” She asks, creeping up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Sam goes still for a brief moment, surprised by her arrival, and then he sighs, relaxing into her embrace. He hangs his head for a little while before speaking.

“My band broke up,” he tells her.

Aelin smiles morosely. “What a coincidence—mine, too.”

“Shit,” Sam hisses. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Eh,” Aelin waves him off. “It’s no biggie. Besides, The Cadre will return. We’re stubborn fuckers.”

“Ace…”

“So, your band broke up?” Aelin asks, changing the subject. “That’s kind of funny, considering I didn’t think you had a band, Mr. Solo Artist.”

Sam scowls at her. “The band I had slated to open tonight. They got into a fight about how to peel a banana or something—“

“Important stuff, truly.”

He shoots her a glare, but he’s smiling, too, despite himself. “And they broke up. Now I don’t have anyone to open for me.”

“Well, you know what you have to do, right?” Aelin asks, smiling. Sam’s blank face tells her that he does, in fact, not know at all.

Her smile turns mischievous. “You go on early tonight, and then you get your manager to host some auditions tomorrow. Maybe you’ll find your next girlfriend. It worked for me.”

Sam rolls his eyes at her, but then his face lights up with some realization. Aelin thinks that she’s not going to like whatever it is he’s about to say.

“Or…” he begins, “my very talented, beautiful, and amazing _current_ girlfriend could open my show tonight—just tonight.”

Aelin shakes her head no, adamantly. “This girlfriend is on a break.”

Sam sighs. “My girlfriend is dying to perform again. She knows it. I know it. And the fans know it. What’s she so afraid of?”

Aelin’s mind reels. She doesn’t like to be put on the spot like this.

“I’ve never performed alone,” Aelin admits at last. “I’ve always had the band with me.”

“Always?” He sounds surprised by this.

“Always,” she swears. “Or I at least had Rowan with me. Hell, the first time I ever performed was with him. Lorcan had just recruited me for the band, and Rowan was pissed he was outvoted on whether or not I was in. He didn’t think I could make the cut, called me a spoiled princess.

“So, we went to this dingy bar on the seedy side of town, and Rowan signed us up for an open mic without telling me. Asshole picked a Nirvana song because he thought _a rich girl like me_ wouldn’t know the words.”

“What song?” Sam asks, eating up this rare Aelin anecdote. They don’t tell the world that their prized _Rowaelin_ were mortal enemies when they first met. That’s a secret.

“All Apologies.” Sam nods his approval. “Did you know the words?”

“Of course, I did! It’s fucking _Nirvana_.”

Her boyfriend raises his brow, a silent request for her to keep telling the story.

“I killed it because I’m fucking awesome, and then I threw up on Rowan because he fucking deserved it.” Aelin grins as Sam breaks into laughter. It feels weird to talk to him about this; she’s never really shared that story with someone before. Just the band.

He brushes some of her hair back from her face and presses a kiss to her lips. “I believe you’d kill this too.” Another smile. “And if you want to throw up on me afterward, that’s okay, too.”

###  **Delayed start time announced for Sam Cortland concert. What’s the holdup?**

Aelin doesn’t give him an answer right away. She’s—scared. So, Aelin tells Sam that she needs a minute to freak out properly first, that she needs to pee. Her boyfriend laughs at her honesty and agrees to wait. Yet, there isn’t much time for her to consider. The opening act is scheduled to start any minute now.

She wants to call Rowan, rant and panic about it all to him, but she doesn’t. There’s a part of her that knows Rowan will just call her a coward, encourage her to do it, and hang up. That’s not what Aelin wants, though; she wants someone to _bitch to_ , not someone to solve the problem for her.

Lorcan is less than helpful when she calls him.

“Stop being a little bitch, and show off for your boyfriend,” Lor tells her matter of factly. She hates him. Aelin should have called Lysandra.

“But—I’m scared, okay?”

The drummer is a little more gentle with her after her admission. “Rowan said you were thinking about doing some solo stuff, but that you were chicken. Why the fuck not, Ace?”

Rowan’s a traitor, sneaking behind her back and getting the guys on his side. Aelin hates him, too, she decides. Why is everyone ganging up on her?

“He said it was like you thought you couldn’t pull it off or something,” Lorcan continues. “But if I recall, you think that before every show. So, my vote is, go out there and kick ass. I know you. You’ll forget all about your nerves once the lights come up.”

“I… don’t like it when you’re right,” Aelin says after a while. Lorcan laughs.

“So, that’s why you’re always so mean to me,” he muses. Aelin rolls her eyes before she realizes he can’t see it.

“What I’m supposed to sing?” She asks.

“Whatever the hell you want,” Lorcan declares. Aelin laughs at the gumption in his voice; she misses him. A lot. They’re going out for drinks as soon as she lands in Wendlyn again. She tells him as much.

“Besides, you’ve written so many songs already for those airhead pop stars. Let them come up with their own shit,” he tells Aelin. “And you and I both know you’re hiding some stuff in that fucking journal of yours. Speaking of which, do you want a new one for your birthday? Fuck, if I know what to get you.”

Aelin’s feeling a little overwhelmed suddenly. Her eyes burn with the threat of tears. “Thanks, Lor. I’d like that.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius fills in for opening act at Sam Cortland concert.**

Sam suggests that his touring band back her up during her act. They can already play a few songs from _Hell of a Night,_ having picked up a few things while touring with The Cadre.

Aelin turns it down. She’s not sure she could handle that right now. The idea of someone else playing Rowan’s parts or the scrawny dude they call a drummer filling in for Lor—nope. She’s not ready for that at all.

Instead, Aelin marches onto the stage with nothing more than the guitar she brought with her to Wendlyn. She’s very happy with herself for packing it now, despite her mother’s insistence that she didn’t need it.

The lights are dim, and the audience begins to cheer for her, except they’re not cheering for her. Not really. They’re cheering for the other guys, the band that was supposed to perform before Sam went on.

Shit, that’s awkward.

The lights come up on Aelin, standing center stage. There’s nothing but a guitar and a mic stand to protect her from the audience’s criticisms. She tries not to think about the cameras aimed at her face, projecting her face onto massive screens on either side of the stage. Another directly behind her.

“Surprise?” Aelin says. She strums the guitar once, a nervous tick, and waits.

The audience _screams._

“I hope you all don’t mind my crashing the show,” Aelin tells them casually, warming up her fingers on the instrument. “Sam needed more time to work on his hair. He’s very particular about it, you know.”

Laughter. It eases her nerves. This won’t be so bad, she thinks.

“Anyway,” Aelin continues, starting the intro to a song they’ll all recognize. Aelin figured she’d start with the easy stuff, stuff they know, and then work up the courage to sing something new. “I thought I’d keep you company while the man of the hour is getting ready, yeah? That sound okay with you guys?”

The audience cheers. Aelin’s smile turns mischievous. She sings:

> _What else should I be? All apologies_
> 
> _What else could I say? Everyone is gay_
> 
> _What else should I write? I don’t have the right_
> 
> _What else should I be? All apologies…_

###  **Aelin Galathynius plays The Cadre’s hits—SOLO.**

Aelin finishes another song and waits for the cheering to come to an end. Lorcan was right, and Rowan too, the buzzard. She was fine on her own; although, it’s not the same as playing with the band. There’s no one there to catch her when she slips up, and there’s no grumpy guitarist to sing her harmonies.

She thinks she’s done alright anyway.

“The powers that be say we have time for one more song,” Aelin tells the audience. She glances in the direction of the piano, considering. “I thought I might play something new for you? How does that sound?”

They scream, and Aelin laughs at their enthusiasm.

“It’s probably not the best, like, note to close out on, but that’s okay, I think.” Aelin laughs. “What do you say? Is it okay if I leave you guys sad?”

A round of applause. Agreement.

“Word,” she says. “Cause I was gonna play it anyway.”

More laughter. Aelin hands her guitar off to a stagehand, and she shuffles across the stage for the piano. She feels a little bad for going off-book on the crew, but she was totally out of songs that she could play without the guys.

Aelin thinks that her boyfriend better spoil her rotten after this. She’s improvised a whole set for him.

“Right.” She starts to play a few chords, testing out the sound. Playing a new piano is a lot like driving a different car for the first time; it takes her a second to get the _feel_ of the instrument, the weight of the keys and the sound of the music.

The stadium is completely silent as they wait for Aelin to start. Fuck, that’s scary.

“I LOVE YOU!” Someone screams.

Aelin breaks into a cackle. “Fuck, I love you, too! But don’t tell Sam!”

The audience laughs, and some of Aelin’s nerves fade away. This song is a lot. It’s meaningful to her in that way that really most of her work is, but, also, it’s different. There’s no band behind her, and the topic is… personal.

It’s just her, the piano, and the audience.

> _Come on skinny love just last the year,_
> 
> _Pour a little salt we were never here,_
> 
> _My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my,_
> 
> _Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer…_

She hasn’t even played this song for Rowan yet. But Aelin’s played it about a thousand times on her piano at home. She’s recorded it, too. Also, at home for fear of her bandmates or the studio catching wind of it. Aelin pauses, a few chords trilling into the air.

Shit, maybe this was a bad call.

> _I tell my love to wreck it all,_
> 
> _Cut out all the ropes and let me fall,_
> 
> _My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my,_
> 
> _Right in the moment this order’s tall—_

The music takes Aelin away from the stage. She falls into the moment, playing the notes like she has a hundred times before. For a little while, she doesn’t worry about whether she’s good enough or not to perform on her own. For a small amount of time, Aelin isn’t worried about betraying her friends or about how much it hurts to not know when Rowan will be her partner in crime again—if he even will be.

She just… sings.

> _Come on skinny love, what happened here?_

They’re reaching the end; it feels like she only just started. Aelin starts to play harder, singing with more bravado than before.

> _I told you to be patient,_
> 
> _I told you to be fine,_
> 
> _I told you to be balanced,_
> 
> _I told you to be kind,_
> 
> _Now all your love is wasted?_
> 
> _Then who the hell was I?_
> 
> _Now I’m breaking at the britches_
> 
> _And at the end of all your lines_

Aelin slows down. She barely presses down on the keys, and her voice is as light as she can make it, which is a bit of a struggle compared to how she usually sings—screaming and belting out over a five-piece band.

> _Who will love you?_
> 
> _Who will fight?_
> 
> _Who will fall far behind?_

And then she gives it all she has.

> _Come on skinny love_
> 
> _My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my_

There’s a heartbreaking, terrifying moment of silence.

And then they scream.

###  **Hear Aelin Galathynius play new song, _Skinny Love._**


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: chapter contains a little adult/nsfw content. it’s fairly mild.

###  **Aelin Galathynius announces solo album, _No Shame._**

> _Happy birthday to you,_
> 
> _Happy birthday to you,_
> 
> _Happy birthday dear Ae—Ace!—lin._
> 
> _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUU!!_

“Wow. You guys are terrible,” Aelin says dryly. “You should really leave it to the professionals.”

Laughter. Rowan grins over Lyria’s shoulder, those green eyes twinkling with mirth. Lyria smiles softly and Aelin tries not to let the woman’s presence ruin her party.

Lyria’s thin frame has already started showing, just the slightest curve of her flat stomach. Rowan keeps resting his hand there, and Aelin is working very, very hard not to notice.

Four months. Five to go.

“Well, we can’t all be Wendlyn’s next big hit,” Rowan tells her proudly. He’ll gloat his way through every one of her successes. Bastard.

The fans are stoked for new music. They don’t mind that it’s just her. There are mean comments, of course, about how the band broke up because of Aelin because she wanted to go solo. Tabloids are calling her selfish and overly ambitious.

Aelin decided that those two traits aren’t necessarily bad things. Not in terms of self-preservation.

“Speaking of Wendlyn’s next big hit,” Lorcan drawls from where he’s sitting in a chair turned backward. “When is the kid getting here?”

“Fuck you,” Aelin says through a laugh. “His flight took off late. Typical.”

 _Sam_. She’s so excited for him to arrive. Aelin thinks they’re doing a relatively good job of this long-distance musician business. Although it hasn’t been very long. Is she sure that Sam is the one for her? No, but Aelin is only in her mid-twenties. She doesn’t have to go for broke right now.

Aelin likes Sam, and Sam likes Aelin. That’s enough.

###  **Aelin Galathynius rents beach out for a Summer Birthday Bash! See the home.**

Lorcan leads Aelin away from the pregnant woman to a secluded part of the house to get high. She’s stayed away from most everything since the Wryd incident, but Aelin decides it’s okay to indulge a little. It’s her _birthday_. Or her birthday party anyway.

Besides, it’s just weed.

“So,” Lorcan starts through an exhale. “I think Rowan is going to propose.”

Aelin’s world stops for a beat. Shit, she saw this coming. The question is, why is Lorcan telling her and not Rowan himself. If her best friend went to her other best friend to break the news to her… Aelin will be ruined.

He must see it in her eyes. Aelin takes the joint from him. “I caught him looking at rings online, so he spilled his guts to me. I thought I would… give you a heads up. I’m sure he’ll be telling you soon—after the party and stuff.”

Aelin holds the smoke in until it feels like her lungs will burst with the pressure. Lorcan raises a brow at her.

“Sweet,” she rasps on an exhale. “Good for him.”

Inside, Aelin is dying. Her first instinct is to run out of this room and find Rowan, _tell him._ Slap the shit out of him. Yes, definitely slap him.

Outside, Aelin passes the blunt.

###  **Celebrities wish Aelin Galathynius a happy birthday on social media.**

The real party has begun by the time that Sam Cortland makes his entrance. It’s well into the night, and their intimate gathering of friends has grown into a full-out event. The place is packed full of people. Some Aelin knows, and some she doesn’t.

Celebrities, music people. Lysandra brought some model friends. _Everyone._

Aelin is sprawled across a couch, riding her peaceful high and pretending not to notice Lyria or Rowan’s existence. It’ll only bring her down. Instead, she flashes Sam a lazy and content smile as he sits down beside her; Aelin moves her legs to rest across his lap.

“Babe,” Sam says, taking her by the chin and looking into her blown-out pupils. He’s smiling that troublesome grin of his. “What have you been up to?”

“I’m baked… and whatever verb applies to that stuff, Lys brought,” Aelin tells him with a wry smile. Sam laughs lightly, unconcerned by the news; he doesn’t know any better, doesn’t know that those words should sound off warning bells. Sam wasn’t there that Summer.

Meanwhile, Lysandra and Aedion are currently taking their turn at charades. They’re so fucking into each other that Aelin wants to barf. Her cousin totally stole her only female companion. How rude.

“Horny, too,” Aelin adds in an afterthought. Sam chokes on air, and Aelin’s heart swells at the way her boyfriend turns bright red. He’s so fucking sweet; she lives to embarrass him.

Sam takes a moment to recover; Aelin shares a knowing look with Lysandra across the room while she waits. They’re—happy. It’s nice.

The look he gives her makes Aelin’s knees go weak. “Wanna get out of here?”

###  **Sam Cortland makes landfall in Narrow’s Landing.**

Aelin leads Sam away from the party. It’s loud and crowded, and luckily, no one notices her sneaking out of the main room with her boyfriend to call her out on what she’s up to. It’s obvious, of course, anyone can tell by the way Sam’s hands won’t leave her hips or by how Aelin’s flushing with the excitement.

The rental is ostentatious, way too fucking big for the party she planned, but Aelin didn’t want to throw a party in her home. It seemed like asking for trouble to let all of these people into her personal space like that. And there’s always a ton of people who show up uninvited to stuff like this.

The hallway upstairs is empty, so Aelin eagerly takes a pause, spinning around to tug on her boyfriend’s shirt to get him to her level. She just wants to kiss him. Sam backs her up into the wall, caging her body in with his.

A thrill shivers down her spine at his closeness. They haven’t seen each other in weeks, and some dirty talk on the phone is so not the same as getting to feel those hands of his on her skin. His mouth is soft and familiar; Aelin hums, nipping at his lips for better access.

Sam’s laugh is heady. As his mouth trails down her neck, Aelin isn’t able to bite down on the moan that erupts from her throat.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” she groans as his teeth scrape at the skin of her neck. Aelin’s breasts tighten, and every nerve in her body ignites. She grabs at his hips and pulls them into hers, craving more.

Sam’s answering moan makes her shiver; she digs her nails into the delicate skin on the back of his neck to bring his attention back upward. Aelin just needs to kiss him again, desperately, and for a long, long while. Sam grunts at the sting of pain, but his mouth finds its way back to her lips

“I missed you too,” he says between kisses. A thumb swipes across Aelin’s breast, and she gasps, body jerking without her permission. Sam smirks.

“Sam,” she pleads. His mouth returns to that particular spot he’s uncovered on her neck. The one that makes her dizzy and senseless. “Sam, I need you—now.”

Her boyfriend groans into her skin, hips grinding against her core. Aelin’s not sure when her leg hooked around his waist, but she’s definitely not mad about it. All this contact, after going so fucking long without it, is fantastic.

“Right here?” he asks, a little crazed.

Aelin laughs, “We could. It’s my birthday.”

He breaks contact with her neck, and Aelin pouts at him. Sam grins, pressing a kiss to her lips. “As much as I’d like to fulfill all your birthday wishes, I’d rather do this somewhere a little more… Private?”

Aelin rolls her eyes. No sense of adventure in this one. None at all.

“There’s a bedroom down the hall,” she tells him, leading him away by a hand. Sam chuckles when she stumbles, feeling a little weak after all of the attention he’s been giving her. Aelin plans on getting more before the evening is done.

###  **Feyre Archeron talks wedding plans.**

“If you want to leave him,” a smooth and sensual voice says. “I will help you do it. No questions. No strings. Just say the word.”

“I just—“ A sigh. “I feel so guilty.”

Aelin registers the voices a second too late. Sam and she are already crashing through the door, limbs tangled with one another.

“Shit,” she hisses, flushing bright red, and Sam’s cheeks turn pink as well. “Knocking. Not my strong suit. You’d think I’d learn.”

“It’s—not what this looks like.” Feyre Archeron sits at the foot of the bed, her black cocktail dress shimmering like the night sky. Her blue eyes are wide with surprise. Worry, too.

“Right,” Aelin says. She points back at Sam. “This is exactly what it looks like.”

Rhysand Knight’s smooth laughter draws Aelin’s attention. He leans against a window, having retreated from Feyre’s side after being interrupted. He’s the picture of indifference.

Aelin sizes him up. Rhysand Knight is tall, dark, and handsome—and notoriously a class A dick. She scowls at him, jutting up her chin and looking down her nose. Those deep, violet eyes that have won the hearts of women everywhere smile back at her, unphased.

“If I hear you were anything less than a gentleman here tonight,” Aelin glances pointedly in Feyre’s direction. That smile falters ever so slightly. “I’ll totally kick your ass.”

“Aelin.” Sam’s eyes seem to say _I definitely can’t win, so please don’t threaten him._ Aelin totally wears the pants in this relationship. She doesn’t need Sam to fight her battles.

 _Aelin Galathynius gets into a fight with Rhysand Knight._ One heck of a headline.

Feyre throws her head back, laughing. Yet, it’s the wicked gleam in her eye that makes Aelin like her immediately. “Gentleman—Rhysand doesn’t know what that word means.”

Aelin can’t help but grin back.

“Happy birthday, Aelin,” Rhysand tells her, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

Feyre’s eyes shine as she nods. “Yes! Thank you for letting Lysandra invite Mor—and the two of us by association. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Aelin shrugs. “The more, the merrier.”

Feyre’s smile holds.

“Right.” Aelin looks over Feyre one more time, sparing Rhysand another warning glance; if possible, his grin only grows. Well, Feyre doesn’t _seem_ scared. If the actress did at all, even a little bit, Aelin would reconsider leaving them alone together.

“Well, continue with… whatever is—or isn’t—happening here,” Aelin says. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Her words earn another round of laughter.

“Enjoy your… birthday presents.” Rhysand’s eyes sparkle with trouble. Aelin knows they catch how she flushes a bright red; she ducks her head and practically flees the room, Sam right behind her.

###  **Morrigan Veritas, Prythian’s Fashion Icon.**

“ _Sam_ ,” Aelin gasps. He’s panting in her ear, groaning at the feeling of her nails scraping down his back underneath his shirt. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

They ducked into the nearest bathroom, having recovered from their embarrassment and too desperate for each other to bother knocking on any more doors. Sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter is totally bruising her ass, but Aelin will just hate herself for it later.

Sam groans again, hips stuttering. They’re both so close that Aelin can _taste_ it.

She’s not being quiet, but Aelin’s not going to feel embarrassed for having bathroom sex with her boyfriend in a house she’s rented with her own money. They’re all adults here, and if anyone leaks something like this—well, she’ll hunt them down and fucking murder them. Assholes.

“Sam! Shit,” she swears as he switches angles, and Aelin sees stars. She hangs on for dear life. “Shit, I’m—”

Aelin goes quiet as she peaks, burying her face in his neck, and Sam’s answering groan is low, from the back of his throat. They both go still, catching their breath and hanging onto each other for support.

They look at each other afterward, and the couple breaks into laughter, happy and very, very satisfied.

“You make a habit of dragging guys into the bathroom?” Sam teases, pulling away from her.

“I think answering that question only spells trouble,” Aelin quips as she hops off the counter and fixes her dress. Sam steps away to take care of the condom. No babies for them, Aelin thinks. No, thank you, Mother Nature.

Aelin notices that Sam goes still. She realizes her mistake.

“Shit, I mean,” she stutters, trying to save face. “You’re the only one I’m currently dragging into bathrooms.”

It turns out she’s not very good at this being a girlfriend thing. “The only one—since Bellhaven.”

Sam is pleased with that answer, but something about his reaction bothers her. He doubted her, even if only for a second, and it doesn’t sit well with her. She thinks she should probably leave it alone, but Aelin’s never been one to back away from a conversation. Well, most of the time.

Perhaps, it’s time to learn from her mistakes.

“Sam,” she starts slowly. He looks her way, brown eyes big and soft. And a little sad. “This is… This is a thing, right? You and I—we’re together, right? Because if not, then I’m embarrassed because I’ve definitely been calling you my boyfriend.”

Sam’s answering smile is big, and Aelin returns it.

###  **Sam and Aelin go official on Instagram. _Happy birthday to my girl._**


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it feels a little messed up settling down after my easter dinner to ruin everyone’s evening... i guess, i’ll count that as my warning. 🤷  
> ps- for those of you wondering about the feysand cameo. they are pulled directly from the celeb au What I Want.

###  **Aelin Galathynius’s star-studded birthday party. Who was there? See the pictures.**

“Happy birthday,” Rowan says softly, tapping Aelin on the shoulder.

Aelin’s surprised by the sound of his voice, and she has to work quickly to wipe away the few stray tears that have escaped her. She snuck away from the party for some quiet, to feel sorry for herself, and to come down from the high.

Yet, Rowan found her. Of course, he found her.

His face falls at the sight of her waterworks, and Aelin can’t help the strangled laugh that escapes her. Why is she always the one crying at the parties?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, green eyes filled with worry.

Aelin shrugs him off. “It’s probably just the X getting back at me.”

Rowan’s eyes harden, but wisely, he says nothing about it. Aelin can tell that he really, really wants to, though. Instead, Rowan takes a seat beside her and sighs, waiting for Aelin to tell him the truth. That’s not fair, she thinks; he’s not allowed to see through all of her bullshit so easily.

“Do you think I’m ever going to find someone?” she asks quietly. “Like, something real with someone?”

Aelin’s words are met with silence, and she can’t help the bitter and incredulous laugh that escapes her throat. She punches her best friends and says, “Shit, Buzzard. No need to lie or anything.”

Rowan flashes her a weak smile. “Sorry. I just—”

“I know.” Aelin sniffles and wipes at her face. She deflects before the conversation can get serious, toe that dangerous line of theirs. “I’m always the drunk, sad girl at the party. Sorry to bring you down.”

“Hardly,” Rowan bumps his shoulder into her side gently, earning a laugh. Aelin misses the contact immediately. “You feel things so strongly, Ace. That’s not a bad thing. Never be apologetic for it.”

Another laugh. “I guess we can’t all be as infallible as you.”

“Shut up,” he tells her, flicking her on the nose. They lapse into silence.

Aelin tries to ignore the itch to ask, to bring up the horrible news she found out about earlier, but she just can’t. It’s not in her coding to leave well enough alone.

“You’re getting married,” she whispers. It isn’t a question.

Rowan goes still.

“Lorcan is almost a bigger gossip than Fenrys,” he says eventually, sounding utterly irritated. A pause. “I was going to tell you, but—it’s your birthday party. Besides, I haven’t asked her yet; I’m having lunch with her father on Tuesday.”

Fuck, that’s sweet. Aelin thinks she might hate him. Her favorite person in the world.

“And… then it’s up to Lyria,” Rowan continues, oblivious to Aelin’s inner struggles. “She hates me more days than not right now, so she might tell me to fuck off. I’ll have to time it right between bouts of morning sickness.”

His following smile is troubled, insecure.

“She’ll say yes,” Aelin tells him, decisively. Rowan rolls his eyes at her, opens his mouth to disagree, but she interrupts him. “Anyone would.”

Pine green eyes hold her own. Aelin fights the instinct to look away from him, to shy away from meeting those eyes that see her so well. It’s a lot to handle.

“You, too, Ace,” Rowan decides. “You, too.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares selfie with Rowan Whitethorn.**

“C’mon,” Rowan says after a while. Aelin’s heart skips at the sight of one of his rare smiles. “There’s a shit ton of people in there who want to celebrate you. Let’s go see what kind of trouble you can get us into while the night is young.”

Aelin grins like the devil. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Rowan laughs at her. “Of course, it does.”

He reaches out for her, and Aelin takes his hand and allows him to lift her to her feet. In a rare show of affection, Rowan lets Aelin link their fingers, swinging their clasped hands until they return to the party.

Inside the large room, the party goes on. Lysandra and Aedion wave her over to chat, and Aelin releases Rowan from her grasp to join her cousin and his girlfriend. Rowan makes his way towards the guys; Lyria is curled up on the couch with Vaughan, happily soaking in the quiet man’s presence.

It’s nice being with everyone. They haven’t had a reason to gather together for a while. A morbid thought hits her. Aelin is about to go on tour. When will they have this kind of chance again? Rowan’s wedding? The birth of his child?

###  **Aelin Galathynius’s first single,** _ **No Shame**_ **—a satire on social media culture or an autobiography?**

When Aelin’s first single comes onto the radio, everyone cheers.

“That’s my song!” she cheers, throwing her hands overhead in delight and meeting Rowan’s eye across the room instinctively. She can always find him in a crowded room. 

It’s the first time she’s heard her song play on the radio, and if it isn’t just the best fucking feeling ever, then Aelin doesn’t know what is.

> _Angel, with the gun in your hand,_

> _Pointing my direction, giving me affection..._

Lorcan scoops her up from behind, and Aelin squeals with delight, forgetting all about the heavy conversation she just had with Rowan. Tonight’s about having fun, about enjoying herself with her friends—and some strangers, too.

And like Rowan said, it’s about getting in trouble.

> _I only light up when cameras are flashing,_

> _Never enough and no satisfaction,_

> _Got no shame,_

> _I love the way you're screaming my name—_

A dance party ensues. Lysandra and Aelin own the floor. A beautiful blonde bombshell joins them, and Aelin meets Morrigan Veritas for the first time. She’s got a wicked sense of humor and a comforting smile.

Eventually, Aelin yanks out her phone and starts a live video.

“My song is on the radio!”

###  **Aelin Galathynius and Lysandra Ennar go live on Instagram together.**

“Okay, I think that’s all I’ve got to share with you guys,” Aelin tells the camera as the song fades in the background. “Have a goodnight!

“BUY HER ALBUM!” Lysandra shouts into the camera, interrupting Aelin’s goodbye. She leans her head on Aelin’s shoulder, and the blonde bursts into laughter as Lysandra continues, “It’s perfect. I’m the only one that’s heard it!”

“Well, my mom has,” Aelin admits.

Lysandra looks horrified. “What?”

Aelin cackles. Of course, she’s played the album for her mother. She wouldn’t dream of releasing music without the Evalin stamp of approval. Aelin plans to play it for the guys later this weekend. 

“See you guys later!”

She ends the video before Lysandra can get any more distracted. Her friend pouts down at Aelin from where she’s perched in Aelin’s lap. She isn’t sure when they curled up together, but the look on Aedion’s face when he finds them is worth it.

“Ae,” Lysandra sighs, snuggling in close to Aelin. Someone’s getting a little sleepy. “I love you.”

Aelin’s heart swells with affection. “Love you, too, Lys.”

###  **What Aelin Galathynius has achieved by age 25.**

The party is going strong as Aedion sweeps his girlfriend away to find a room to crash in. Aelin’s overcome once again by an overwhelming sense of jealousy at the sight of the two of them. She’s happy for them—of course, she’s happy. Yet, Aelin’s also mad. They’ve known each other for two minutes. How does something just work out that well that quickly?

Aelin watches the people around her. She isn’t sure where Sam has disappeared too, but she wishes he were with her. Aelin would feel less alone that way.

She decides to escape into the kitchen. It’s empty, and she finds that to be a relief. It’s exhausting to have to be _on_ for so long. Maybe Aelin should have just stuck to the intimate family gathering at her parents.

“Nice party.”

Aelin looks up from the drink she’s claimed from the outside bar. There’s one hell of a pool party happening out there; she ducked back inside quickly.

She is feeling more than a little petty and mean when she sweeps her gaze over Arobynn Hamel. The sight of the man in the kitchen with her makes Aelin’s skin crawl, but there’s a more significant issue at hand.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she sneers. He was definitely not on the invite list.

A smile spreads across his lips in response, and Aelin looks away towards the nearest exit. It’s right behind Arobynn. Fantastic. Of course, it is.

He notices. “Trying to get away from me so quickly?”

It isn’t until the man closes the distance between himself and Aelin that she smells the drink on his breath, notices the haze in his eyes, filled with lechery. Arobynn is clearly drunk off his ass and hellbent on trying to get her attention.

“Look, not to be a bitch or anything, but—” Aelin takes a step back from him despite herself as he approaches. She’s not an idiot; Aelin knows when and when not to pick a fight. Being tipsy does Aelin no favors right now.

“Why are you always trying to run from me?” Arobynn coos, backing her into a counter, and Aelin’s heart pounds in her chest at his nearness—not in a good way. All of the people in this fucking beach mansion, and she’s trapped in the kitchen with _Arobynn Hamel_.

Aelin braces herself as his face comes near to hers, his stale breath tickling her skin. If this asshole wants a fight, he’s going to get one.

Still, she shudders as he takes her chin in his hand, tilting Aelin’s face up to look at him. “I think we could be good friends, you and I.”

“Don’t touch me,” Aelin grinds out. She turns to walk away from him, but he grabs her arm and tries to tug her back into his embrace. Her anger flares and Aelin shoves at his chest. “Seriously, dude. Fuck off.”

“Let her go.”

Arobynn pauses his advance to meet Rowan’s dangerous gaze. Aelin’s tense muscles relax at the sight of her friend, but Arobynn doesn’t back off. In fact, he scoffs at Rowan, arrogant and unafraid.

“Why don’t you go home with your little old lady, and leave us to have fun?”

“Don’t make me ask you again.” Rowan’s voice is made of ice.

Arobynn hesitates just long enough for Aelin to step away from him. She’s halfway to Rowan when the music producer says, “Until next time, _Ace._ ”

Aelin looks over at him; Arobynn wears that smile of knives again. He’s not looking at her, though. He’s watching Rowan, a threat shining in his eyes.

“And there will be a next time,” he promises. Aelin’s skin crawls. Fuck.

Rowan yanks Arobynn away from her by the collar, fist colliding with the man’s face a second later. Aelin thinks she cries Rowan’s name, but she doesn’t really hear it. All she sees is Arobynn returning the hit with one of his own.

“You stay the fuck away from her!” Rowan shouts. He draws his hand back for another hit almost immediately. Another.

“Hey, stop!” Aelin screams, reaching for his arm, but Rowan shakes her off and knocks Arobynn to the ground. Tears sting her eyes. Seriously, she always cries at the worst of times; it’s so unfair.

“Ro, you gotta stop!” she cries again, scrambling at his arm. People have heard her shouting; she can hear them rushing for the kitchen to see what’s going on. “ _Rowan_!”

Her voice finally breaks through, and Rowan looks towards her, surprised by her tears. Then he looks over her shoulder, and his expression shatters and becomes overcome with guilt. Aelin follows his gaze, finding Lyria’s scared eyes watching them both. The woman drinks in the way that Aelin holds her boyfriend’s face, the way Rowan’s broken hand clings to Aelin’s wrist.

Lyria turns away, leaving the kitchen without a word.

###  **Rowan Whitethorn got into a brawl with Arobynn Hamel, an inside source gives the scoop.**

The guys are the next ones in the kitchen. Lorcan hauls Arobynn away without question, and Aelin prays to every god she can name that the motherfucker won’t press charges on Rowan. She can only hope that the music producer is too afraid of word getting out about what a creep he is will be enough to dissuade him.

Vaughan takes control of the situation, while the twins provide a distraction for the guests. Aelin’s birthday party is officially over now, she supposes.

“What the fuck, Rowan?” Aelin hisses at him, wiping at his bloodied knuckles.

Rowan won’t look at her; he’s clearly pissed at himself. He’s likely replaying the look on Lyria’s face, the betrayal in her eyes, and how she turned around and walked out of the room without looking back. Aelin knows the moment is haunting her mind too, even now as they hide from the party guests in the master bathroom.

Still, Aelin can’t help recalling Lyria’s surprise that day on tour, how she didn’t believe that Rowan would go macho male to protect his girlfriend’s honor. Yet, here he is doing it a second time—for Aelin.

“Where’s L?” he finally says. “I need to check on her.”

“Aedion has her,” Aelin says, words clipped. She hasn’t forgotten that she asked him a question, nor that he’s blatantly ignored it.

Rowan swears under his breath and then returns to his silence.

Aelin doesn’t let up, though. “Rowan, you can’t go around hitting people like that.”

“Says the girl who decked a paparazzi.” Her best friend shoots her an incredulous and agitated expression. Aelin glares back at him.

“Yeah, because he deserved it.” Rowan raises his brow at her, and Aelin continues, “But I didn’t try to fucking _kill_ the guy. Rowan, you went _crazy on him_. You can’t do— _we_ can’t do that.”

“We?”

Aelin sighs. Now it’s her turn to have trouble meeting Rowan's eye. The look on Sam’s face when he found Aelin leading a bleeding Rowan away wasn’t much different than Lyria’s, and it got Aelin thinking about things.

She’s turned it over in her head a thousand different times, imagined the millions of ways in which telling Rowan about Lyria’s request could backfire, both on Aelin or Lyria. Hell, on Rowan. 

What if Aelin told him, and Rowan didn’t believe Aelin? What if he thought she was lying, thought she was jealous, and so, Rowan cut out Aelin? Fulfilled Lyria’s request himself to protect his family?

What if Aelin told him, and Rowan _did_ believe Aelin? What if he cut out Lyria instead? Kept the mother of his child at arms length to protect their friendship? How would that look for their child?

Or worse. What if Lyria lashed out at Rowan? Took away his kid?

Aelin meets his gaze. “We can’t keep doing _this_ , Rowan.”

Silence.

“I can take care of myself,” Aelin tells him quietly. She squeezes the hand she holds with both of hers as gently as possible. “And… I have someone, a boyfriend, _Sam_ , to help me fight the battles that I can’t win on my own. And, Rowan, _you’re getting married._ ”

Rowan takes his hand away from her. It stings more than any slap, but it’s also what Aelin is asking for. She’s never hated getting what she wants more.

“I see.” His voice is rough, and Rowan clenches his teeth so hard that Aelin can see the muscles work. She tries to catch his gaze, but Rowan trains his eyes on the wall behind her, avoiding looking at Aelin.

“I’m going on tour soon.” Aelin can hear the tears in her throat, so she knows Rowan can hear them, too. “Maybe that’s for the best. We—I think we could use the space, you know? Give me the dates on your wedding, and I’ll be there. But—maybe we need a break in the meantime.”

Rowan’s eyes have gone cold and distant. He says, “You don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“What? No,” Aelin defends herself, panic taking over her. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

“You just want space,” he echoes her earlier words in a cruel mockery. “You want to take a break. That sounds an awful lot like a breakup. Don’t you think, Aelin?”

The way Rowan says her name hurts her very soul. Those traitorous tears sting her eyes, and Aelin taps the final nail into her coffin.

“I mean, that’s kind of what this is, isn’t it?” she croaks.

The moment after the words have left her lungs seems to stretch on forever. Aelin makes a point not to move, to ignore the tears sliding quietly down her cheeks as she waits. Rowan leans against the counter for a long time, mulling over her words. He doesn’t say anything, which Aelin thinks really, really sucks.

Yet, it’s not until Rowan leaves her alone in the bathroom, closing the door behind him so swiftly and softly and surely, that Aelin realizes that the words themselves were a test. She wanted to see if Rowan would stand up for them. For their friendship—for this fucked up _thing_ between them.

Aelin realizes she hoped he’d show his hand. That she’d like what she saw.

But Aelin didn’t. He picked Lyria. Choice made.

###  **Tickets to the** _ **No Shame tour**_ **go on sale!**


	19. Chapter 19

###  **Aelin Galathynius’s first single, _No Shame,_ hits #1!**

The first person Aelin wants to call when she receives the news from Gavriel is Rowan. She pulls up his name on her phone right away before realizing that she hasn’t spoken to him since he literally walked out on her.

That was over a month ago.

So, Aelin calls Sam, but the call goes to voicemail. She kind of expected as much. The new relationship high faded almost as quickly as it came. Aelin’s never had a boyfriend before, never bothered keeping anyone around for that long, but she thinks that blissful honeymoon phase is supposed to hold out a little longer than this.

She’s not going to call him out on it, though. It’s not Sam’s fault that Aelin is a shitty girlfriend, and it’s definitely not his fault that she hurt him at her birthday party. She saw the look in his eye, the moment he realized that Rowan and Aelin were _Rowan and Aelin_. Not something in title or rank, but still something tangible and real.

Being in love with your best friend fucking sucks, Aelin decides.

Because that’s what she is. Aelin is in love with Rowan.

###  **Aelin Galathynius begins the Wendlyn leg of her _No Shame Tour._**

She forgets how quickly the days go by while touring. At first, Aelin barely notices Rowan’s absence in her life, but then she overhears a delightfully raunchy story in the lobby of her hotel and decides she needs to share it with him immediately.

It isn’t until she decides to head for Rowan’s hotel room that she realizes: he’s not here with her. None of the guys are. They’re all off conquering new projects. Aelin is, too.

Instead, Aelin goes back to her suite and orders room service. She doesn’t leave the hotel to sneak around the city like she usually would because she can’t go anywhere without hulking security men following her. Her boyfriend is on the other side of the world and screening her calls, and her parents are on another cruise, living that retirement life.

She’s alone.

###  **Aelin Galathynius sells out Wendlyn tour dates, adds dates in the Southern Continent and Erilea.**

“Hey, Aelin.”

The touring team calls her Aelin. Something about rebranding herself from a rowdy rock band frontwoman into the pop star Adarlan records wants her to be. It’s kind of weird, but it is her name. At least, they’re not giving her a pseudonym or some shit.

Aelin pauses her trek to her dressing room, finding Elide Lochan watching her with a faint if nervous smile. She likes the guitarist. At first, Aelin thought the guitarist was maybe a touch too nice, but Elide proved her wrong quickly enough. The woman can curse like a sailor—Aelin approves.

“Wanna go out for drinks tonight?” Elide asks quietly, still uncertain of her relationship with Aelin. She can’t blame them; Aelin’s been somewhat distant, keeping to herself unless necessary to do otherwise. “Celebrate the end of the first leg of the tour with us?”

She should, Aelin thinks. It’s a big first step, a remarkable milestone, but Gavriel just added more dates to the calendar. Adarlan Records is pushing for even more still; Aelin could be gone from home for months longer than expected. The finish line was nowhere in sight.

Aelin flashes the woman a weak smile. “I think I’m going to head back to the hotel. I’m beat, but thanks for including me.”

“Oh,” Elide looks disappointed by the refusal, but she’s too kind to push the matter. “Enjoy your night then.”

###  **Rowan Whitethorn announces engagement to longtime girlfriend, Lyria Flowers.**

**I told you so, Buzzard.** Read at 8:08AM.

No response. It’s what she asked for.

Still, stings like a bitch, though.

###  **Aelin Galathynius returns to Doranelle before heading to Erilea.**

Lorcan meets her for dinner after she lands, which is nice. It’s certainly better than returning to that empty apartment of hers. Nothing against her friend’s rugged face, but he’s not the person Aelin really wants to see, wants to catch up with.

Rowan is still radio silent. Aelin wants to be mad at herself for being incapable of shutting him out the way he clearly has her, but mostly she’s just still pissed at Rowan. It makes it easier.

Aelin knows Lorcan has noticed and that he’s probably already spoken to Rowan about what Aelin asked of him, but she’s trying really fucking hard not to put her friends in the middle of their bull. She isn’t sure her methods are working.

_Friendships break bands all of the time._

“So,” Lorcan says in between monstrous bites of pasta. Aelin is offended that he would order such a beautiful plate of carbohydrates in front of her. “That guitarist of yours—hot.”

For a heartbeat, Aelin thinks he’s talking about Rowan, which is messed up on more than one count. Then she remembers Elide: her brown eyes and razor-sharp tongue.

“She’d eat you for breakfast,” Aelin informs him immediately, stabbing at her salad. She hates diets.

Lorcan’s grin is roguish. “She can have me for any meal she’d like.”

He’s pleased expression falls when Aelin pegs him in the face with a piece of bread, complaining, “You’re disgusting, and I hate you.”

They glare at each other before breaking into laughter. Lorcan eyes the desert menu, raising one brown in a challenge to Aelin. “Wanna help me eat through this dessert menu?”

“Yes,” Aelin groans, despite herself. Fuck this salad. She wants _cake._

###  **Aelin Galathynius sells over a million copies of her debut album, _No Shame._**

**Congrats, Ace. I told you so.**

Aelin’s heart leaps in her chest when she wakes up to a notification from Rowan. Her parents have called. Aedion and Lysandra, too. The Cadre group chat blew up while she was sleeping the night away in a different time zone.

But it’s Rowan’s name she focuses on.

**Thanks… I think.** Aelin’s fingers hover over the keyboard, contemplating saying more. Like an addict, Aelin craves more from him after just a taste. She thought she was getting over it. **I miss you, Buzzard.**

**Miss you, too, Fireheart.** An immediate response. Like he’s still awake at the late hour back in Doranelle.

Aelin doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to bridge this gap they’ve created. It’s what she asked for, she reminds herself. It sucks, and she wants to take it back.

###  **Aelin Galathynius releases duet with boyfriend, Sam Cortland.**

“I need to ask you about something,” Sam tells her one evening while she’s painting her toenails. 

Aelin fights not to jump out of her skin. She fails, dragging the brush across her toe and frowns; she was doing so well at it until now. Guys. They always want to have serious conversations at the most inconvenient moments.

“‘Sup?” She downplays her nervousness. Aelin doesn’t like his approach or how he’s afraid to meet her eye; she thinks she won’t like whatever he has to say.

Sam looks equally uncomfortable. “Is there—Did something happen between you and Rowan?”

Yeah, she saw that one coming. Aelin swallows back the grief she feels at the mention of Rowan. They haven’t spoken again, not since their brief text conversation. Her album went gold over a month ago.

People used to not be able to get them off of the phone with each other, and now… Nothing.

Aelin doesn’t have a good answer. The simple answer would be yes, but it also leaves a lot unexplained. Aelin owes Sam more than that. However, Sam speaks again before she can stumble her way through an explanation.

“Uh, Vaughan let it slip—that you two weren’t really talking,” he admits, sparing her a guilty smile. Aelin’s stomach turns sour at the reminder of her bandmates. The position they’ve put them in despite their best efforts.

“Is that why the band went on hiatus?” he asks quietly. “And why you two aren’t speaking—because something happened?”

Aelin has to clear her throat before she can answer him. She remembers her earlier thoughts about Sam, about needing to cut him loose. She recalls how he doubted her back on her birthday, too. Aelin is only hurting him, bringing him down. Sam deserves better than this.

“Uh, yes and no,” she answers truthfully. “The band went on hiatus because Rowan needed to take a break from the touring shit to be there for Lyria.” A heavy pause. “We’re not talking because… we’re not.”

Sam doesn’t back down. “Did you two get into a fight or something? Because of what happened at the party?”

“Kind of,” Aelin admits. “But it’s been coming for a while now, I think. The shit with Arobynn just pushed it over the edge.”

She watches as Sam’s brown eyes turn inward, and he mules over the answer he’s gotten. Aelin knows she should tell him more. Hell, she should break up with him, rip the bandaid off once and for all.

“I,” he sighs. “I don’t know how to ask this, but… Do you love him? Rowan?”

Aelin can’t lie to Sam, but she also doesn’t want to tell him the truth. It’s an unbearable thought, saying the words out loud. Instead, she stares hard at the fucked up polish on her toe, avoiding his gaze and the hurt that will inevitably be there. Sam’s good. Kind. He deserves better than this. Than her.

An uncomfortable cough. “Uh, I should probably go.”

A pause. Aelin’s eyes fall closed. She knows what this is. This is the moment, the test. Sam is hoping Aelin will stop him from leaving, beg for him to stay, swear she doesn’t feel that way about Rowan. Sam is hoping she’ll fight for him like Aelin hoped Rowan would fight for her.

Aelin is a lot of things. A bitch. A bit of an addict. Impulsive to a fault. Vain. But she isn’t a liar.

The worst part of it all is when Sam kisses her on the top of her head before he goes. A quiet goodbye when what she really deserves is brutal, hateful words. Aelin totally led him on; she knew what she was doing every step of the way. She doesn’t deserve Sam’s kindness; she deserves his hate.

###  **Aelin Galathynius takes Erilea by storm!**

The really fucked up thing about being in the public eye is not being able to just break up with your boyfriend. Aelin has a PR team now, a group of people whose sole purpose is to control her image. As it turns out, it’s apparently bad for her brand to break up with Sam. They just released a song together after all.

“It’s a tragic breakup song,” she tells Gavriel impatiently. “If anything, our breaking up will sell the song a million times faster.”

Her uncle looks inclined to agree. Gavriel is family, too. Aelin sometimes forgets with the tough-love she often gets from him.

“You’re not wrong,” he relents. “The man upstairs, however, disagrees.”

“Lumas?” Aelin quips. “I didn’t think he cared much for the music industry.”

Gavriel shoots her an exasperated look, and Aelin can’t help but smile. She hasn’t been doing that very much, so it’s a nice change. Her uncle’s expression tells Aelin that he feels similarly.

It’s definitely a little worrying that Aelin is getting everything she wanted, and yet, she’s sadder than ever.

###  **Aelin Galathynius’s album, _No Shame_ , goes platinum.**

The call comes just as Aelin wraps up her curtain call. She’s carried the same policy of ignoring her phone during a show for as long as she’s performed. It’s the fastest hour of her life that one hour show. Aelin can’t get distracted between numbers—not that she really has the time to do so, anyway.

Still, her phone is the first thing she checks afterward. It’s her lifeline when she’s away from home and on the road. It’s her only connection to her family and friends living on the other side of the globe.

Aelin finds a few missed texts. Not out of the norm.

**Break a leg!** Her mother texted a few minutes after Aelin was already on stage.

Lysandra is there, too. **I know you’re on stage, but we need to discuss your idiot cousin immediately.**

Aelin snorts at that. She’ll find out what dumb shit Aedion did later. The Cadre chat has blown up again, which is weird because they should all be sleeping. It’s the wee hours of the morning in Doranelle.

And then she sees the missed call. From Rowan.

There’s a voicemail, too.

She’s afraid to answer, to hear what he has to say, but at the same time, Aelin can’t fathom _not listening to it._ Rowan called her. She presses play.

“Ace.” The sound of Rowan’s voice washes over her, bringing with it a profound feeling of relief. Fuck, she’s missed that voice. “Why don’t you _ever_ answer your damn phone?”

Aelin chokes on a laugh at the old familiar aggravation in his voice. It’s true. Aelin is very bad about answering in a timely manner. Then Rowan swears, “Fuck. You probably have a show tonight.” A sigh. “I hate that I don’t know if you have a show or not.”

The message goes quiet for so long that Aelin checks to see if that’s all he’s said. If it is, she’s going to be very disappointed. It’s not nearly enough. She needs more.

“It’s happening,” Rowan says at last. “Lyria’s in labor. The baby is on its way, and you’re the first person I thought of telling. I don’t know if that’s fucked or not. It probably is.”

Aelin didn’t know her heart could break and rejoice at the same time. _Rowan’s having a baby._

“Uh, basically, I’m freaking the hell out, and I need you to talk some sense into me,” Rowan laughs hoarsely, speaking so fast that Aelin almost can’t keep up. “I need you to tell me to grow a pair and get over myself. To chill the fuck out or whatever other mean shit you would tell me because I very clearly have the easier job here.”

Aelin smiles softly. He’s not wrong. A soft sigh. “I wish you were here.”

She feels the tears immediately. Her assistant knocks on the door. It’s probably time for the meet and greets, but Aelin can’t go out there crying like a fool. She waves her away, and the assistant leaves the dressing room.

There are voices in the background. “Um, call me back,” Rowan says. It’s clear someone’s telling him to get off the phone. “Or don’t if… you know. But I hope you will. Uh, I miss you… Aelin.”

The phone beeps and the voicemail ends.

Aelin attempts to return the call right away, an addict chasing her fix, but it goes to voicemail. Rowan’s probably a bit preoccupied with the birth of his child to answer the phone. Instead, Aelin leaves a particularly snarky voicemail about how his life is over as he knows it. She wants to tell him she misses him, but Aelin isn’t sure she could say the words strongly enough not to give herself away.

Then it’s off to the races. Aelin gets cleaned up and into new clothes. Fans are waiting to meet her, so she puts on a brave smile and heads for the location.

It’s not that she isn’t happy to see her fans; Aelin loves her fans. In fact, once she gets there, the excitement catches on, and Aelin falls back into the entertainer persona quickly, pushing aside the inner turmoil for a little while.

There’s just a lot going on in her head lately. She’s up, and then she’s down. Sometimes she can’t sleep, and other days she doesn’t want to get out of bed. But she doesn’t want to let anyone down. So, Aelin keeps it to herself.

No need to burden anyone.

###  **Rowan Whitethorn and girlfriend welcome baby girl** **.**


	20. Chapter 20

###  **The _No Shame Tour_ continues.**

When the phone rings, Aelin considers ignoring it. Screw whoever has decided to call her at such an ungodly hour. She’s sleeping. Then the previous night’s events come back to her, and Aelin rushes for her phone, scrambling out from under her covers to find the blasted thing.

Rowan called her last night, and she called him back, just missed him. What if he’s calling her back? Aelin will definitely cry if it is him, and she doesn’t catch the call in time. The road is definitely starting to get to her.

Imagine her surprise when she grabs the phone and sees the video call, Rowan’s ugly face glaring at her. It’s an old photo of him; she’d forgotten about it until now. The sight fills her with homesickness again. It’s definitely time for a vacation.

Aelin clicks answer, her heart leaping in her chest. Then she panics. Then Rowan’s face appears.

“You’re such a bitch,” Rowan tells her flatly. The twinkle in his eyes makes Aelin smile bigger than she has in months. She missed this fucking asshole.

“Ah, you got my voicemail then,” she says, earning a rueful eye roll. Fuck, is it nice to see him again. Aelin feels the homesickness hit her like a physical blow. “Good, I was worried you might have fainted before you had the chance.”

A scoff. “That’s not at all what I had in mind when I called for you help, Ace.” He glares at her. “But, under the circumstances, I suppose I’ll take what I can get.”

Rowan looks her over, worry lining his face. He looks apologetic. “Did I wake you up? Shit, I haven’t slept in... I don’t know how long. What time is it?”

Aelin becomes self-conscious. She probably looks terrible right now; her bedhead is always a disaster. Still, Aelin waves Rowan off. “It’s alright. I’ll forgive you this time, Buzzard. So, how did everything go?” Aelin changes the subject. “Is everyone okay?”

Rowan’s face is heartbreakingly happy. “Yeah,” he says. “Hang on one sec. I have someone for you to meet.”

His face goes out of focus, and Aelin strains her ears to listen to the background noise and figure out what’s going on. She’s nosy like that. Rowan’s low voice drifts into the phone, a soft indecipherable sound.

When he returns, Rowan’s face glows in a way that Aelin’s never seen before. He aims the camera down to his arms. “Ace, I’d like you to meet Thea.”

Aelin gasps, tears sting her eyes immediately. “What a cute little potato!”

Rowan gives her a look. “Did you just call my child potato?”

“Don’t forget the cute part, that’s very important,” Aelin insists, and Rowan smiles.

“She is a chubby baby, huh?”

“I love her,” Aelin breathes. And she does. This baby is part of _Rowan_. Aelin will love it at all costs. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Me either,” he agrees, speaking softly. He looks up at the camera, and Rowan’s blissful expression drops. “Aelin, you’re crying.”

“I cry all the time, Ro. You know that.” Aelin sniffles loudly on cue. “No biggie.”

Rowan’s eyes don’t leave her face. Even from the other side of the world, he can see right through Aelin. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Aelin tries to think of a good excuse, but she comes up short. “Just homesick, I guess. It’s been a long tour, ya know?”

She can tell by his expression that Rowan doesn’t believe her for a second, not entirely. He watches her carefully, in that way that always makes Aelin unbelievably self-conscious. Rowan sighs deeply, an exhale coming from the soul.

“Ace… I’m sorry. For… you know. Everything.” He looks at Thea, avoiding Aelin’s eye.

“Me too,” she says quickly. Almost too quickly.

Another sigh. “I’m not egotistical enough to think this is all about our… fight. I know there’s something really bothering you. Something else. You’ll tell me when you're ready, right?”

Aelin nods; she can’t lie to him. “I’m happy for you, Rowan. Truly.”

“Thanks,” Rowan says. Aelin knows him well enough to know that he’d like to push the matter some more, but Rowan knows her well enough not to do so. “I’m happy for you, too. Ace, I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Aelin manages to laugh while crying. “Good news. You’ve already perfected your dad voice.”

Rowan scowls. “Fuck you.”

Aelin cackles, and Rowan’s face breaks quickly into a smile. Then the baby starts to fuss, upset by their noise.

Rowan’s face transforms into horror; he looks down at his fussing child and then to Aelin in a panic. She can’t help it; Aelin laughs harder. “Well, Dad. Duty calls.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits, stricken. Rowan doesn’t freak out easily, so Aelin is caught off guard by the vulnerability.

“You got this, Buzzard. I have faith in you,” she says, trying to soothe him. This is new. Usually, Rowan is the one trying to calm down Aelin. Her words seem to do the trick; Rowan’s expression turns battle-ready.

He tells her before they end the call, “Thanks, Aelin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius is having her best year yet!**

Rowan and Aelin start to talk again. Little bits of banter here; a funny anecdote there. Rowan shares every inconsequential detail of his daughter’s first days with her—when he’s able. Aelin tells him about her tour, about how her shows went, and he listens as she complains about missing a note. Rowan always tells her nobody noticed.

It’s nice. Even as the warning bells continue to go off in her mind.

When he mentions the wedding, Aelin is reminded of why she pulled away in the first place. Rowan is getting married still, and now there’s a baby in the mix. Not that Thea wasn’t already on the way.

She loves him, Rowan. Yet, there’s nothing she can do about it.

###  **Fans gather outside Antica hotel in hopes of seeing Aelin Galathynius.**

Aelin smiles for them and only for them. Her fans. She loves them, each and every one of them. If it weren’t for them, Aelin would still be playing open mic nights around Doranelle, begging Mort at Mistward to let The Cadre have a time slot on live music nights.

Some of them have followed Aelin and her band from before The Cadre broke into the mainstream, which is just fucking wild to Aelin—even now as she sells out concerts on her own.

They love her, and she loves the shit out of them in return.

“Sup, guys?” Aelin shouts to the crowd waiting outside her hotel.

The location leaked, and naturally, they all gathered here like moths to a flame. Aelin makes eye contact with a young girl who should probably be in bed right now. Well, at least she didn’t swear, right? Aelin really was trying to work on it—if only to give Gavriel a few years of his life back. It’s not going the greatest.

When the crowd screams, Aelin can’t help but do the same, acting ridiculous for her audience. Their good mood is infectious, and Aelin is no longer ready for bed. Her security team already looks put out by the soon to come mayhem, but Aelin pays them to put up with her shit. So, she won’t feel bad about it.

For the next hour or so, Aelin smiles and waves, signs t-shirts and albums, and makes the most out of the moment. She may have just come from a meet and greet, but not everyone manages to land those. Aelin is feeling extra generous tonight.

Then someone hands her a picture of her and Rowan from that very first press shoot. She’s wearing the dress she stole, and Rowan’s making a show of putting her shoes back on for her, a rare moment of silliness from their stoic guitarist.

His smile makes his eyes crinkle, and Aelin is cackling at whatever he’s said. Her head is thrown so far back that it’s a wonder she didn’t fall off the seat. Again.

“Are you going to be at the wedding?” The fan has no idea how the reminder shatters her heart into little pieces. It’s not her fault that no one knows the truth, and Aelin won’t hold it against her. Instead, she flashes a smile and tells the fan that she will. Of course, she will. Right?

But Aelin’s good mood gutters like a candle in the wind. She signs the picture, and then she signals to her security team that she's ready to head inside. It's been a long night, and Aelin is ready to drop the act for the evening. She’s tired.

###  **Aelin Galathynius returning home!**

“Thank you all for coming out to see me tonight!” she shouts to the crowd. “It’s good to be back home. I’ve missed this city, and I’m looking forward to some good cake.”

The crowd laughs with Aelin, and she takes the chance to push aside the heavy feeling in her heart. Rowan isn’t able to meet her for dinner, and her security team has advised against going to the restaurant anyway. The crowd tonight is too wild, stirred up by the concert.

Aelin asked Essar to run and get them some food from Emrys anyway. She and her assistant have bonded unexpectedly, but Aelin thinks it's nice to have someone in her corner. It definitely doesn’t hurt that Essar is sharp-eyed and clever, and she loves chocolate.

The band revs the outro music, and Aelin smiles for the audience. “I love you, Doranelle. Thank you for such a great show! Now let’s scream for my people!”

She leads the audience through curtain call, and true to heart, the fans scream loud for each and every member of the tour company. Aelin runs around the stage like a maniac, trying to wave at and reach as many people as possible. This is the last show. It’s bittersweet, but she’s ready to be home.

###  **The Cadre publicist informs the press that the Whitethorn wedding will be a small, private ceremony with family and friends.**

Aelin is in the middle of trying on her totally badass velvet suit jacket when it hits her what she’s fucking doing. She’s trying on the suit that she’s going to wear to Rowan’s _wedding_.

As if this isn’t a big deal. As if Aelin’s forgotten about all the reasons she decided to maintain her distance from him.

Rowan asked Aelin to be his best man. Well, he didn’t, not really. Everyone just _assumed_ that it was she who would play the role, that Aelin would be the one to stand up there next to him while Rowan made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Shit.” Aelin starts to panic. Suddenly, she can’t breathe anymore. This jacket is way too small for her; it’s choking her throat. Her stylist must have gotten the measurements wrong. She thinks she’s going to pass out.

“Are you alright?” The seamstress asks.

Aelin gapes at the woman, feeling lost and confused. No, she wants to say, to scream. Nothin is alright. Her best friend is about to marry the wrong person, and everything is all her fucking fault—

Thank the gods above for sending Lysandra into the room when they do. Her friend’s green eyes take one look at Aelin’s distraught face and another at what she’s wearing. Then she shoos the seamstress away from the room.

“We will have to reschedule,” Lys tells the confused woman, ushering her out of Aelin’s apartment. “It’s just not a good time.”

“I, I can’t—“ Aelin’s mind isn’t working correctly. She can’t find the words. “Lys, he’s—“

“Breathe,” Lysandra orders in a voice that leaves no room for argument, taking Aelin by the elbow and guiding her away from the mirrors. “I will leave you on the floor if you pass out on me.”

“Hateful,” she gasps, clinging to Lys as the other woman leads her to the couch. It’s impressive that Aelin can crack a joke right now, but Lysandra waits patiently while Aelin tries to pull herself back together again.

When Aelin yanks at the jacket, needing to be rid of the garment, Lysandra helps her without judgment. The calm presence in Aelin’s sea of turmoil.

“I can’t do it,” Aelin says quietly afterward. “I can’t just stand there while _he_ _marries her._ I thought I could do it. I thought I just wanted him to be happy, but—“

“So,” Lys starts firmly but not unkindly. “Do something about it.”

“There’s nothing to do.” Aelin can hear the defeat in her voice. “He’s got a whole little family now, Lys. I can’t just—What am I supposed to do? Charge in there and declare my love or some shit? Break them up? Their baby is a fucking newborn. I can’t do that to him. To any of them.”

Lysandra’s emerald eyes miss nothing. “Tell him you love him, Aelin. Then the two of you will figure it out.”

Aelin can feel herself withdraw from the conversation, turning inward and away from Lysandra’s knowing eyes. What if she did tell him? Straight out, no roundabout bullshit? Just: _I love you, Rowan._ The words make her feel sick again; she figures that’s probably a bad sign.

“Fuck,” she swears aloud. Lys raises a brow. “This is going to blow up in my face so fucking bad. I just want you to remember that.”

“Oh shut up,” her friend tells her, waving away her worries. “Go get him.”

###  **The first Cadre wedding: who’s standing up with the groom.**

Aelin’s heart is beating so fast the next time she sees Rowan that she’s nearly positive she’s going to vomit. He texted her an address when she reached out, and it isn’t until she and the Squad—as she’s dubbed her security team—pull up that Aelin realizes Rowan sent her an address to a tailor.

“So bad,” Aelin mutters under her breath. “This will be so bad. Better leave the engine running guys.”

Aelin finds him in a private back room, trying on his suit. The sight of Rowan makes her heart do somersaults in her chest. It’s crazy how realizing her feelings for him has made everything different. There’s no way she’s always reacted like this. Right?

Rowan looks thrilled to see her, and Aelin becomes even more convinced she’s going to vomit before this is all said and done. He’s dressed in an elegant black number; Aelin thinks he’s the best thing she’s seen in months.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” he jokes, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. His green eyes are bright and happy as he presents his outfit to Aelin. “So, what do you think?”

Aelin doesn’t miss a beat. “I look way hotter in mine.”

Exasperation takes over his face, but Rowan’s voice gives away his fondness. “I bet you do.”

Her stomach swoops at his words, and Aelin tells herself to get it together. She’s such a fucking mess.

They smile at each other for a beat too long until Rowan remembers himself and looks away from her. Aelin is immediately disappointed, and she’s nervous. She’s going to do it. This is it.

“It’s Da-Da,” a soft, familiar voice sings from behind them. A baby gurgles.

Rowan fucking _beams_ at the sight of his daughter, of his wife to be. Reality comes crashing down on Aelin like a cold bucket of water as she watches the man she loves sweep his baby into the air, Lyria watching fondly.

She can’t. Aelin can’t say anything to Rowan _now._ She’s too late. Fuck what Lysandra said. What does she know about being in love with someone unavailable? Aedion fucking worships her.

Were Aelin to speak up now, she’d be an actual home wrecker, assuming she even pulled it off, assuming Rowan was reckless enough to pick her. It doesn’t seem likely he would, though, considering Rowan chose Lyria and the baby, Thea, before.

Rowan makes eye contact with her, but he seems to take her watery smile for an emotional reaction to the sight of his baby. He’s not wrong.

“Wanna hold her, Ace?” he asks, walking her way.

Aelin immediately panics. “Oh, no. I’m good.” Rowan’s expression falls, and she hastens to explain herself. “Me and babies? Not great.”

The truth is that she’s never really been around a baby, but Aelin isn’t sure now is the time or place to start, not with Rowan and Lyria watching her so closely. Aelin hasn’t really spoken to Lyria much; she’s barely really spoken to Rowan as they test out this new version of their friendship.

“You and Sam haven’t discussed it? Having kids?” Lyria asks softly, accepting her daughter back from Rowan with practiced ease.

“Uh, well,” Aelin clears her throat. Rowan hones in on the cue that she has something she hasn’t shared with him yet. It’s been over half a year since they were in the same room, and yet, nothing’s changed. He can still read her like a book.

“Sam and I… Uh, that’s not a thing anymore,” Aelin tells them softly. Lyria looks apologetic, but it’s Rowan’s sad face that makes her heart twist. They’re more upset about the end of her relationship than she is. “It didn’t work out.”

“Ace,” Rowan starts to say, but Aelin cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“Shit happens.” She shrugs, hoping to play it off.

“Is that what you needed to talk about?” Rowan asks, watching Lyria walk off with Thea to talk about wedding plans in another room. His eyes are so sad for Aelin when he looks her way that Aelin just feels _guilty._

“Yep,” she shrugs, hammering in the final nail in her coffin. “That’s it. No biggie.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares picture of Rowan Whitethorn’s baby: _Look at this lil’ potato!_**


	21. Chapter 21

###  **Aelin Galathynius takes Doranelle’s club scene by storm.**

The news breaks while Aelin is sleeping off the cocktail of drugs and alcohol she consumed the night before. It was foolish, and a definite backward slide, but Aelin was coping with her problems in the only way she knew how. A quick glance at her phone confirms that everyone important got her message, and they are not at all happy about it.

Rowan’s getting married today, and Aelin will not be there.

She’s not emotionally capable of reading everyone’s responses, but Rowan’s message thread catches her eye as it always does.

**Buzzard, I’m afraid I have to cancel one last plan.** She wrote as the waitress brought her the first round of drinks. Aelin was clear-headed and sober—Well, she was sober, anyway. **I can’t stand up there and smile for you. I’m sorry. Forgive me.**

He won’t, Aelin thinks. This has to be the last straw in their tumultuous friendship. Bailing on her best friend’s wedding sends a clear and concise message about how she feels about the whole thing. There’s no more skirting around the truth now.

Later, when the letters were harder to read, and Aelin was perched in a strange man’s lap, she sent another slew of texts, riddled with typos even autocorrect couldn’t salvage. Yet, it’s the last two messages that really stand out to her.

**Don’t do it, Ro.**

**You’re making a huge mistake.**

“Fuck,” Aelin swears. She checks her call log. Small mercies that it appears she chose to call Lorcan last night and not Rowan. Lysandra is on the list as well.

There’s more of the same, but one message catches her attention, burning her sensitive eyes, and making her feel like shit. It’s from Lyria. **Thank you.**

Aelin throws her phone across the room with surprising strength, fueled by consuming rage. Something shatters when it hits the ground, but Aelin doesn’t care right now. She’s grieving, and she’s pissed. She wants to smash a lot of things. Maybe she’ll wreck her apartment and move somewhere else. Rockstars do that all the time.

“Aedion and I took a vote to decide who should come over to check on you,” Lysandra says from the doorway of Aelin’s bedroom. Apologies shine in her eyes. “Well, actually, we played rock, paper, scissors because I voted for him, and Aedion voted for me.”

“Go away,” Aelin groans, shoving her face under her pillow. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now. She should really consider moving that spare key.

The mattress shifts as Lys crawls into bed beside her. Aelin buries herself deeper under the covers and prays for her friend to go away and leave her to drown in her misery.

An audible sniff. “Ace, you stink.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses, but the sound is muffled.

A long pause. “Everyone is flipping out. They’re really worried about you.”

A plethora of emotions wash over Aelin. She’s been ghosting the band for the days leading up to the wedding, ghosting everyone except for the guy that delivers her Door Dash. Aelin missed the bachelor party while on tour in Antica. Small mercies.

Last night, she’d cracked under the cabin fever, calling up her security to escort her to the most luxurious club in Doranelle, the Rift. Aelin fell into the old habits with scary ease, finding someone with the means to get her high as hell. It turned out Dorian still knew how to throw a party; his club was thriving more than ever.

“Should I tell them you went on a bender, and that’s why you’re not going to the wedding?” There’s enough acid in Lysandra’s words that Aelin sits up suddenly to defend herself.

“You’re one to try and judge me, Lys,” Aelin growls. They both remember the time Aelin had to take Lysandra to the hospital to have her stomach pumped.

Her green eyes miss nothing, and Lysandra’s smile promises trouble. Apparently, she’s taking the piss-off-Aelin approach to getting her to talk. Her friend tilts her head to the side like a predator. “So, we’re just going to let Rowan go forward with his shotgun wedding in the 21st century?”

“Don’t do that,” Aelin comes to Rowan’s defense. She always will, even when she thinks he’s in the wrong. “He’s doing what he thinks is best. His parents were separated—it was fucked, Lys.”

Lysandra shrugs one elegant shoulder, “My mother left me on the fire station’s front step. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“So, Rowan should just abandon his kid?”

“No, but he shouldn’t abandon you either,” Lysandra’s loyalty makes tears prick at Aelin’s eyes. It might also be some guilt; she’s feeling pretty shitty about herself right now. Aelin doesn’t think she deserves such faithful friends.

“He won’t have to worry about that,” she tells her friend softly, and Lys’s eyes widen with surprise. “I’m abandoning him.”

###  **Breakup Rumors: Aelin Galathynius and Sam Cortland.**

The banging on the front door wakes Aelin from her nap. She blinks quickly, staring up at Lysandra from the other woman’s lap. There were a lot of tears after she confessed her battle plan to Lys. She must have cried herself to sleep.

Pull away from Rowan completely, give herself the space she needed to get the fuck over this mess. Stay away from him to protect herself. That was what Aelin needed to do. They could be friends later. After.

“Aelin,” Rowan growls. Aelin’s blood goes cold at the sound of the calm fury in his voice. She thought she was going to get out of this part, the fighting. Rowan didn’t answer her texts last night; Aelin assumed that was his way of accepting things. That he was stonewalling her again.

“Answer the fucking door.” It turns out she was wrong.

Lysandra’s wide eyes look between Aelin and the door. A silent question of whether or not to open it for her, if she should go and shoo Rowan away. Aelin shakes her head no, holding one finger up to her lips. They’ll just ignore him, wait it out. Rowan’s not above forcing his way in an open door to fight her.

“I know you’re in there,” Rowan insists. “Jerry says you haven’t come downstairs in nearly a week. And then you left last night and came back high off your ass. _What the fuck, Aelin?_ ”

More silence. Aelin’s heart is undoubtedly thundering loud enough that Rowan can hear it.

“And I can smell that shitty Thai you like from Third Street,” he continues. “So, I know that you’re in there.”

Lysandra slaps her hand over her mouth to cover the snort. Aelin glares daggers at her. She likes her shitty Thai. Fuck the both of them.

“Maybe I should just break the door down and make sure you’re still breathing after all the shit you pulled last night.”

Lysandra’s smile falls from her face as she remembers just what Aelin was up to. Aelin has to look away from her to avoid the guilt.

“Please, Aelin,” Rowan pleads at last. Aelin’s already crying, and it takes everything in her not to run to the door and fling it open and just—kiss him. Something she should’ve done years ago. Something too late to do now.

**I don’t think we should be friends anymore,** she’d texted him. **I think it’s better off this way, Rowan. I’m sorry.**

“Ace,” his voice breaks, even Lysandra’s eyes are lined with silver. “I-I can’t do this without you. I-I don’t want to.”

Aelin cries silently, while both women wait for Rowan to say something else. He doesn’t, but Aelin knows that doesn’t mean he’s left yet. They’re both stubborn as hell; he’s likely trying to wait her out. Rowan knows she’ll come out for air—or at least more drugs—soon enough.

The only good news is that Lysandra used the spare key to get into the apartment already. Rowan can’t get in unless they let him in, and Aelin needs him to leave, to head off for his wedding and his life without Aelin.

Eventually, her phone buzzes and Aelin trudges across the apartment to reclaim it from where she threw it earlier. Somehow the device isn’t broken, but the lamp it collided with is. Her mother bought it for her; she hopes it isn’t too valuable.

**Please, Aelin. I don’t want to lose you.**

**You’re my best friend. Talk to me.**

When Aelin chucks the phone this time, it shatters. She leaves it broken, prefers the silence and inability for anyone to get in touch with her. Lysandra floats around the apartment for a while, only leaving when Aedion shows up with groceries. They’re working in shifts, Aelin realizes. Trading turns at keeping an eye on her.

###  **Aelin Galathynius absent from Whitethorn Wedding, an inside source says.**

“You’re hovering,” she growls to Aedion the next morning. The smell of bacon drew her out of her bedroom, but Aelin immediately realized her mistake when Aedion stood in her kitchen. He’d stayed the night in the guest bedroom, and Aelin was nearly positive that he was texting her parents updates that she was alive.

She appreciates the gesture, but Aelin really wishes everyone would just mind their own fucking business.

“You have to hover when you make bacon, cousin,” Aedion says, messing with the tongs so that they open and close in his grip. Click, click, click. “Otherwise, it burns. You’d know that if you ever bothered to learn to cook for yourself.”

Aelin just rolls her eyes at him. They sit in silence for a time, but just as Aelin starts to think that maybe her cousin will leave it well enough alone, Aedion speaks.

“So, the ball and chain called,” her cousin begins. Aelin scoffs at the reference to her parents. “They wanted to check up on you, said your phone was dead or something because it wasn’t ringing anymore.”

“I broke it,” she replies. Nothing more, nothing less. Her cousin’s brow disappears beneath his shaggy hair.

“Do you wanna borrow mine?” Aedion offers softly.

“Nope,” Aelin tells him, popping the p sound. Aedion removes the bacon from the pan, sets about cracking eggs. A full breakfast, he must be feeling anxious.

“Would you like to go out and buy a new one?” He tries instead. “We could make a day of it.”

“Not really,” she says.

Aedion turns to face her, expression grim. She knows what he’s going to say before he’s even opened his mouth. “Aelin, you’re doing that thing, again. The one we agreed you wouldn’t do anymore?”

Aelin wrinkles her nose, “What thing?”

He looks unimpressed with her. “The thing where something happens that freaks you out, and you shut everything—and everyone—out.”

“Whatever,” Aelin hisses, standing from the table and leaving the kitchen. She’s nothing more than a scolded child retreating to their bedroom. “I’m going to go get fucking wasted now. Let yourself out when you’re done.”

“Aelin,” Aedion shouts after her. “This isn’t healthy. You just need to _talk—_ ”

“No, it’s not right,“ she calls over her shoulder without looking back. “But it is working.”

###  **Sam Cortland’s PR confirms split from Aelin Galathynius.**

Aelin checks her reflection in the camera before she starts the live stream. She took the time to do her makeup this morning, and she thinks she looks pretty rad, so long as no one looks too deeply into her eyes. Otherwise, they might see how fucking miserable she is.

“Hey guys,” she says to the camera, observing to make sure that it’s working. “It’s my birthday, so I thought I’d surprise you all with a mini-concert in my living room. Surprise!”

No birthday party this year. Aelin expertly evaded every attempt from her family and friends to make plans. Lorcan insists he’s on his way with cake anyway. The oaf has been hovering. They’re both pretending not to notice.

Aelin just doesn’t want to celebrate anything these days. She doesn’t feel very worth the fuss, doesn’t want the attention either. She just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Aelin wrinkles her nose in thought. “I think that might be a little backward, though. I’m pretty sure that it’s the birthday girl who is supposed to get a concert, not the other way around.”

She laughs awkwardly. “I guess you all will have to send me some videos, eh?”

She runs her hand down the neck of the acoustic guitar in her lap, and the strings screech in response. She wrote a new song last night, and Aelin’s nearly positive the record company isn’t going to let her put it on an album. They want a more upbeat album.

Fuck them if they think that’s going to stop her.

“Okay, I’m going to sing you a new song,” Aelin tells them, smiling at the influx of comments already pouring in. “Don’t judge me if I sound a little off-key. I had a bit too much to drink last night.”

She starts to play, singing as she works.

> _Don’t you know I’m no good for you?_
> 
> _I’ve learned to lose you, can’t afford to_
> 
> _Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin’_
> 
> _But nothin’ ever stops you leavin’_

The words are maybe a little telling, but Aelin thinks it’ll be okay.

> _Don’t you know too much already?_
> 
> _I’ll only hurt you if you let me_
> 
> _Call me friend but keep me closer (call me back)_
> 
> _And I’ll call you when the party’s over_

Aelin can’t exactly hide the fact that she’s been lurking around her apartment for days on end, interrupting her hibernation for trips downtown to party. If the excursion doesn’t promise an endless supply of alcohol and other recreational activities, then Aelin doesn’t want to hear about it.

> _But nothin’ is better sometimes_
> 
> _Once we’ve both said our goodbyes_
> 
> _Let’s just let it go_
> 
> _Let me let you go_

She doesn’t think she can cancel brunch with her family much longer, though. Evalin Galathynius will be banging on her door any day now. They’ve all been trying to get a hold of her, check in on her, in the days following Rowan’s wedding. Aelin is an expert at evasion.

> _Quiet when I’m comin’ home and I’m on my own_
> 
> _I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that_
> 
> _I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that_

She wraps up the song, pausing at the end to recollect herself back to the present. Aelin is a performer; hopefully, the viewers will just account for her stellar performance to her skill, her ability to evoke emotion.

Aelin flashes the camera a smile, reading the comments. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.” She laughs. “Let’s move onto something a little happier, yeah?”

For the next hour or so, Aelin plays songs from different albums, both her own and The Cadre’s. She takes the camera over to the piano and sings a ballad or two, and the fans eat it up, this sneak peak into her perfect looking life.

It’s all a lie, an act. It makes her feel bitter and misunderstood. Logically, Aelin knows that it isn’t their fault. The fans only see what her PR teams lets them see. None of them are to blame for her misery. That’s all on Aelin.

###  **_A Concert From My Living Room_ , how Aelin Galathynius celebrated her birthday—alone?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinna Grannis has a really great cover of When the Party’s Over that inspired Aelin’s performance at the end. ❤


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for your comments and reactions! i love the interaction we have on this fic. if i haven’t responded to your ask or what have you, i promise i’m working on it. 🥰there’s a LOT of them.
> 
> ps, don’t judge me for my typos. i’m sleepy, and this is already overdue. ily.

###  **The Cadre “hiatus”—what was the _real_ cause?**

Her team was prepared for the fallout; they knew what was coming when the news broke of Aelin dropping out of her best friend’s wedding at the last second. They knew that the vultures would swoop in, that they would come for Aelin, the jilted lover.

But Aelin was not ready.

###  **Aelin Galathynius Spotted at Mistward Club again.**

She makes her new home amongst the flashing lights and booming music of the Doranelle club scene. When they become dull, Aelin rents an apartment in Antica and wastes her days hiding at the edge of the desert, living in the suffocating heat.

###  **The Party Princess returns!**

During the night, Aelin parties and makes new friends whose names she won’t remember in the morning. By day, Aelin sleeps, running from her nightmares and her dreams alike. Somewhere in the middle, Aelin writes music, an outlet for all of the feelings she can’t manage to drown with alcohol.

_“You feel things so strongly, Ace. That’s not a bad thing. Never be apologetic for it.”_

At the time, Rowan’s kind and caring words helped Aelin feel better about herself, but now, she disagrees, feeling less thankful for his kindness now. There’s something wrong with her, Aelin thinks. It’s not supposed to be like this inside her head.

###  **Enjoying her “off-year”? Aelin Galathynius travels the globe.**

It’s shit. All of it. Aelin never wants to write another song again. Gavriel tells her that many artists go through this, that its normal to struggle when coping with a significant change in life. Aelin flips out on him, tells him to mind his own damn business, and then she cries. A lot.

She spends the summer in Velaris, Prythian, eating rich foods and drinking fine wine with other famous people that know better than to ask her about her fucked up life because theirs is too.

###  **One Year Later: Where is Aelin Galathynius?**

Aelin steps out onto the porch of her brownstone and lights a cigarette. She takes a deep drag as people scream her name, and Aelin flashes them her signature hellish smile as the cameras flash, blinding her even through the heavy tint of her shades.

A sigh draws Aelin’s eye towards the left, where her newest employee stands guard over her front door. With chestnut hair and copper eyes, he’s pretty easy on the eyes; she’s never seen a man look more unimpressed by her.

Challenge accepted.

“Is there a problem?” Aelin searches her mind for this man’s name. It’s there somewhere, lost amongst last night’s hangover and this morning’s drugs. She just needs to remember. “ _Chaol._ ”

“Not at all, ma’am.” A clear military turned private security type if there ever was one; Aelin thinks she’ll have far too much fun pissing this guy off. “Shall we head back inside now?”

Aelin doesn’t like him particularly, but Chaol came so highly recommended that her parents practically hired him on her behalf. None of that is going to stop Aelin from giving him hell.

She smirks at his scowling expression, and their invasive audience eats up her reaction. No doubt, the rumors that she’s sleeping with her security will be in the afternoon papers. “You think I squeezed my ass into a thousand dollar pair of leggings to stand on the front porch and _smoke a cigarette_?”

Chaol’s face morphs with horror. Aelin’s smile turns pleased; she had a feeling the price tag would be a bit shocking for him. “Why on earth would you pay that much for a pair of pants?”

“Who said anything about paying for them?” Aelin shrugs indifferently. “They were a gift. The powers that be hoped I’d wear them so that _other people_ will want to buy them.”

The man scoffs, but Aelin gestures towards the front steps, speaking before he can judge her any more. “Alright, _bodyguard_. Let’s see if you’re worth the money.”

Chaol ushers back the crowd on her command, along with the aid of the rest of the Squad. Aelin weaves through the maze of men, head up high as she waves at the fans, and ignores the paparazzi that love to stalk her so.

_“Aelin! What’s the name of your next album?”_

_“Are you single?”_

_“Who’s your new song about?”_

She thinks the theories about who she’s fucking and who she’s singing about sell more magazines than anything else. Aelin resists the urge to say something smart, name a random someone for shits and giggles. Amid a particularly long rager, Aelin told the crowd she was fucking Rhysand Knight.

Boy, was that a mistake or what. She and Feyre giggled about that one for days afterward. Now Rhysand calls her his girlfriend on social media. Aelin supposes she could see how it would be confusing.

_“Aelin, were you invited to Thea’s birthday party?”_

The name of Rowan’s daughter nearly has Aelin tripping over the crack in the sidewalk. Chaol steadies her by the elbow under the guise of leading her towards the car; Aelin subtly yanks her arm from his grip immediately, uncomfortable with having a stranger touch her, especially one that doesn’t like her.

Thea. She turned a year old a few months back. Aelin wasn’t invited to the party, but she wouldn’t have gone anyway. The last time she spoke with Rowan was his wedding day. Aelin’s doing, not his.

It took Aelin everything had to not respond to the barrage of texts and calls she received from Rowan over those following days—months. _Everything._ Even Lysandra suggested that she answer, agree to his request to meet, but Aelin couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear it.

Because Rowan was married. A fact that occasionally clanged through Aelin’s turbulent mind and made her pace in circles for hours. It happened less and less these days, but the reminder is still enough to send her running for the hills. Similar to now.

“You know what, gentlemen?” Aelin says to her team. Chaol is standing at the door to the car, watching her with narrowed eyes, one hand on the doorknob. “I think I’ll walk.”

With that said, Aelin turns and sets off down the street, security detail chasing after her, confused and a little pissed. She hasn’t just walked the streets of Doranelle in a long time. She used to love going for uns through the city, day or night, but Aelin fell out of the habit when people started stalking her.

She thinks she wouldn’t mind starting the practice again, but Aelin has a feeling that the Squad wouldn’t like that very much. Her father would almost certainly veto it if she managed to convince them.

Her treadmill plays footage of the outside. Lorcan bought her a program that allows her to pretend she’s outrunning zombies. A compromise if there ever was one.

As she struts down the sidewalk, Chaol keeps pace with her, a wall between her and the swarm following after them. Aelin pretends not to hear their questions, focusing on the stretch of concrete ahead of her. Don’t acknowledge them. Don’t listen to them. Just ignore them. Her mantra.

But she hears them. She hears every word. She always does.

_“Have you spoken to Rowan lately?”_

_“Who’s the guy you were seen with at Mistward?”_

_“When’s the baby due?”_

Aelin stops to shoot the guy who spoke a look of astonishment. Well, that’s just fucking rude, Aelin thinks. Now they’re so desperate for a story the press is going to imply she’s pregnant.

And here she is reacting, fuel for the fire.

“If we took the car, they wouldn’t be able to harass you like this,” Chaol growls in her ear.

Aelin meets his brown eyes, dons her most arrogant expression. “Yeah, but I also couldn’t get into a brawl with one, and where’s the fun in that?”

The security guard flexes his hands as if in anticipation of Aelin launching herself at another cameraman. She raises her brow in a challenge, but too her surprise, Chaol’s mouth threatens to smile.

“You take the one on the left, and I’ll get the one on the right,” he says.

“Leaving the big guy to little ole me?” Aelin says, raising a hand to her chest like an affronted lady. Then she grins. “I like your style, Westfall.”

###  **No Shame indeed: Aelin Galathynius returns to her partying ways.**

“What’s up, BITCHES?” Aelin all but screams into the camera, a smile stretched from one ear to the other. Today’s her birthday, and she’s determined to make it her best one yet. A year ago, she spent the day crying and feeling miserable for herself. But not today, Aelin thinks.

Today is about having a great fucking time.

She reads through the comments, giggling at the excited reactions from fans. Livestreaming—the quickest way to soothe her vanity. Aelin knows she’s really leaned into that this year, depending on the fans to make herself feel good about herself.

The drugs are helpful, too.

“Today is my BIRTHDAY!” she shouts. The people filling her townhome cheer in the background, evoking more laughter from Aelin. She’s a little drunk and a lot high, but she’s having a great time.

“You mean all this fucking cake isn’t for me?” Lorcan shouts over the fray like the asshole he is. “I’m hurt, Ace.”

Aelin sends him the middle finger offscreen, and then she returns her attention to her phone, beaming. His booming laughter echoes in the background. “As you might remember, last year we had a concert in my living room for my birthday, and you guys sent me all of those videos, which was _fucking_ awesome, by the way.

“So, this year there’s no concert—sorry! But we are celebrating the day at my very new home!”

More cheering. Aelin smiles that troublesome smile of hers. “Don’t worry, though. I didn’t forget about all of you guys!”

Adarlan Records and Havilliard Sr. didn’t think this method was the right one. They told Aelin that she Aelin couldn’t pull it off, that you can’t sell music without the proper marketing, but if there’s one thing Aelin is always keen to do, it’s to prove people wrong about her.

“Right,” she begins, eyes twinkling with mischief. Lorcan chuckles in the background, her constant support system throughout this crazy last year. “At exactly midnight tonight, my new single will be available pretty much everywhere. So—SURPRISE!”

Her guests scream with her, and Aelin breaks into another fit of giggles. It takes a moment for her to collect herself. “Right, so be sure to give it a listen and let me know what you think!”

Lorcan speaks through a cough, “Say the name.”

“Oh, shit!” she swears, turning bright red. This is why it’s best to do these kinds of things sober, but Aelin wasn’t ready to face this milestone without her vices.

Her second birthday without Rowan.

“The _title is_ Love is Fire,” she tells her audience. “And it’s fucking awesome.”

###  **Adarlan Records confirms a new Aelin Galathynius album is on the way!**

Dorian’s fingers play with her hair, while Aelin rests her head on his stomach. It was an impulse decision to invite him to stay, and maybe Aelin should have forced herself to deal with her problems differently, to deal with them like a healthy adult, but it was her birthday.

Aelin didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to sit in her empty fucking house after all of her guests went home with their family and friends.

It was too late for any of that now, she supposed. Aelin hasn’t been dealing with things like an adult for a while now.

“I’m happy you called,” he says softly.

This is a mistake, Aelin thinks. Dorian held out for her much longer than warranted the last time they dated, especially when one considers the length of their relationship in the first place, the destructive nature at its peak.

Aelin really is a bitch.

“Surprised, but happy,” he continues.

She doesn’t want to do this part, the emotions part. Aelin called her old flame over for meaningless sex, for release, not to feel anything real or substantial. Maybe she should feign being asleep; maybe Aelin should just set him straight, tell him that this isn’t what he thinks it is.

Instead, Aelin says, “Me, too.”

###  **_Love is Fire_ debuts at #1!**

It’s 2 AM, and Aelin hasn’t slept. She doesn’t need sleep; she needs to write. She has all of the words in her head, can hear all of the notes, but she can’t find the right sound, can’t find the right instrument.

“Westfall!” Aelin cheers when she finds the security guard. She’s fond of him, she thinks, in a begrudging sort of way. “There you are! We have to leave.”

The man stares at her with narrowed, unamused eyes. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“No, it isn’t,” she tells him quickly. She’s talking very fast; she can hear it, but she can’t stop it. “It’s past midnight, so it’s morning. It doesn’t matter—we have to leave.”

Chaol Westfall is unmoved. “Why.”

The word isn’t exactly a question from him, and technically, she doesn’t have to explain herself to him. Aelin does anyway. “I need Annabel.”

“Well, maybe you should just let this Annabel sleep.”

Aelin growls, running her hands through her hair. She talks over him, impatient to be heard and understood. They’re wasting time. “Mahogany wood. Rosewood fret. Diamond inlay. Satin finish. Vintage from the 50s—”

“Weird way to describe your _friend_ —“

“She’s a guitar!” Aelin hisses at the man. He’s wasting precious time; there’s work to be done. “But she’s at my apartment on the other side of town.”

Chaol looks over her shoulder pointedly in the direction of her music room, the collection of instruments within it. “So, use something else.”

“No!” Aelin insists. “I’m your boss, and we’re _going_ to my apartment for Annabel.” She holds out her hand, expectantly. “Or I’m going without you. Just give me the keys.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius seen leaving High Street home with a mysterious beau.**

“I never get to drive,” Aelin complains animatedly from the front seat. “I own ten fucking cars, and I never get to drive any of them.”

Chaol scowls from the driver’s seat. He wanted her in the back where no one could see her, but Aelin insisted on sitting up front, especially if she wasn’t allowed to drive.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you drive us anywhere as fucked up as you are right now,” he tells her with no small amount of judgment.

“ _I’m not high_ ,” Aelin hisses for the thousandth time. “I mean, _I am_ fucked up—that’s not wrong—but I’m not high. No drugs. I’m clean. Scouts honor.”

She makes the appropriate symbol with her fingers; an old memory hits her with a pang. Aelin shoves it aside. Chaol scoffs in disbelief, and Aelin insists, “ _I am_!”

“There’s no need to lie to me, you know,” he continues, turning into the private entrance of the apartment complex. “I signed your extensive NDA when you hired me. Man, was that a doozy to read through.”

Aelin sends him a pointed look as he parks. “ _Exactly._ Why would I _lie_ to someone who can’t tattle on me about something I’m _not ashamed of_?”

Chaol Westfall stares at her blankly, but then Aelin remembers their purpose. She gasps and bolts out of the vehicle, flying towards the entrance. She hears the security guard follow after her. Even his footsteps sound annoyed.

Inside Aelin finds who, or rather what, she’s looking for. Annabel sits on her wall, the dark wood gleaming in the city lights from the window. She hasn’t been in the apartment for a while, hiding from the ghosts that reside here.

None of that matters now, though.

“Alright,” Chaol says grumpily from the doorway. “Let’s take a look at this guitar.”

Aelin’s already holding the instrument in her lap, and she strums it once, the tone of it soothing her restless soul.

Chaol is less impressed by Annabel’s beauty. “It’s just a guitar.”

She strums again, fingers finding the chords she’s looking for without having to think. Aelin’s gotten better with her guitar playing through the years, but the piano is still her best instrument.

“Yeah, _just a guitar_ worth fifteen grand,” she strums another chord, humming a melody. This. This is what she needed, what was missing. The ones at the townhouse didn’t have the right sound.

“Someone give you this too?” Judgment lines Chaol’s voice, but she ignores it.

Sadness fills her. Then anger.

“No, I bought it with my own fucking money that I earned my-fucking-self. Money, I might add that I use to keep you employed.”

Properly chastised, the security guard has nothing else to say. So, Aelin sets about transcribing her journal entry. It takes her a while to figure out what she’s looking for, and she really wishes she had better handwriting, but she gets it right eventually.

###  **The Dating History of Aelin Galathynius.**

Later, in the silence, she starts to sing. Chaol stirs from his perch in the kitchen, surprised by the change. He comes out to listen.

> _Now if I keep my eyes closed he looks just like you  
>  But he’ll never stay, they never do  
> Now if I keep my eyes closed he feels just like you  
> But you’ve been replaced  
> I’m face to face with someone new_

Her one-man audience raises a brow at the words spilling from her, but Aelin isn’t worried about being judged by Chaol. He’s the least of her worries.

> _Would’ve gave it all for you, cared for you  
>  So tell me where I went wrong  
> Would’ve gave it all for you, cared for you  
> (My lover, my liar)  
> Would’ve traded all for you, there for you  
> So tell me how to move on  
> Would’ve traded all for you, cared for you  
> (My lover, my liar)_

Chaol paces the living room in the rising sunshine. The light bounces around the apartment, shining against the crystal chandelier and making the piano’s finish glow.

> _They don’t realize that I’m thinking about you  
>  It’s nothing new—_

A shiny green guitar catches the man’s eye, and he reaches for it.

“Don’t touch Lucy,” Aelin warns as the music dies, breaking off mid-verse. Chaol raises an eyebrow in surprise.

She tried to return it, to send it back to him. Aelin had it delivered by private courier on more than one occasion. It was a custom guitar, made for one particular musician, and that musician was not Aelin.

Rowan returned it. Four fucking times.

“Lucy?” he asks, fingers still hovering above the Fender’s green body.

“Touch that guitar,” Aelin tells Chaol with lethal calm. “And I’ll make sure you never find work in this city again. Understood?”

She watches the security guard carefully, staring him down until his hand returns to his side. A moment later, Chaol clears his throat and nods once, speechless.

Aelin resumes her playing.

###  **Baby bump spotted! Aelin Galathynius expecting!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: The song from last chapter is Eyes Closed by Halsey. There’s a stripped version on Youtube that’s just her and her guitar. Also, I’m sorry for the delay (as always), but I got distracted watching live performances of different songs.
> 
> warnings: Angst. Drug use. Depictions of depression.

###  **Aelin Galathynius voted Artist of the Year, Erilea Music Awards.**

The red carpet—Aelin’s mortal enemy.

The cameras flash, bouncing off the jewelry of the famous people ahead of her, and the sight causes Aelin’s pulse to race. She can remember a time when she enjoyed all of the fuss, when she liked to be the center of attention like this, but she doesn’t remember when it stopped.

That’s not true, Aelin corrects herself quickly. She used to love rampaging down the red carpet with her guys at her back, causing trouble and making snarky remarks to people who dared asked her: _who are you wearing?_

Now she just has Dorian.

“Oh, stop fussing,” Dorian purrs into Aelin’s ear as she smooths her skirt for the hundredth time that evening. She cuts him a glare that makes his blue eyes sparkle with mirth. The nerve of him.

Aelin is really fucking nervous. She hasn’t walked a carpet in a while, not since the shitstorm that was the wedding. It’s a lot, walking down this ugly carpet, under the careful scrutiny of fifty cameras, being quizzed by another fifty nosey interviewers.

“Look,” Aelin hisses, glaring at her date. “Have your own scandal, and then you get to tell me not to worry.”

Dorian huffs a laugh at her, laying his hand ever so gently against her back. She’s rather fond of the silky number she’s donned for the evening; Aelin wishes she weren’t so stressed, so she could enjoy how hot she looks right now.

“Aelin Galathynius, you offend me. I _am_ a scandal.” Dorian coos. She can’t help it. Aelin breaks into laughter at his words, bubbly and loud. Dorian’s grin only spreads wider.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Party Prince,” Aelin teases. Dorian winks in response.

“Here I thought it was the drugs,” he tells her, pushing lightly at her lower back. Aelin throws a pout over her shoulder, and Dorian flashes her another smile. He’s her backup tonight—a scandal in itself. “Go knock ‘em dead.”

###  **Dorian Havilliard escorts Aelin Galathynius down the red carpet.**

“So, there are more than a few old flames here tonight,” the interviewer begins, flashing Aelin a knowing smile. It’s as if they’re pretending to be old friends, sharing gossip over wine. Aelin hates her guts.

The interviewer continues, “Is there anyone you’re worried about running into?”

Aelin’s face must promise murder because Dorian’s fingers flex at her side, a quiet warning to behave. His father sent him along as a babysitter, and Aelin is trying very, very hard not to hold it against him.

“Uh, I don’t really know who you’re talking about—”

Her voice cuts off when Dorian pinches her. Aelin resists shooting him a scowl, but something else catches her eyes as the cameraman goes in for that floor to boob to face shot of her dress.

“Dude, what the _fork?_ ” Aelin only just manages to save herself from cursing on live television. Aelin will save that sin for later.

The interview comes to a screeching halt. Dorian’s face seems to share her outrage, and the woman leading the interview appears to be at a loss for words.

Aelin fills the silence. “Like, do you do that to all of the guys, too? You’re going to film Dorian like that as well?”

On cue, Dorian gently moves her to the side to take her place in front of the camera. Just like that, their good behavior promise to his father goes up in smoke.

“I, for one, think my butt looks way better than hers in this suit,” Dorian says while striking a pose. “I work out, unlike someone.”

“Fucking _rude_ ,” Aelin says through a laugh. An instant later, she realizes what she’s done. She sighs. “Shit.”

Dorian laughs heartily at her slip up, and Aelin can’t resist joining him as the interviewer tries to save face. The duo ignore her questions; in fact, they ignore all of the questions for the rest of the evening.

For a little while, Aelin smiles and causes trouble on the red carpet with her friend, her sort-of boyfriend. This right here. _This_ is why Aelin chooses to keep Dorian around. Not the drugs, although, sometimes they’re helpful.

This is why Aelin keeps Dorian around. He provides that little bit of light—is just that little bit of brightness amidst all the dark—to keep Aelin from completely drowning in the darkness.

###  **Sam Cortland to perform _Before You Go_.**

Imagine Aelin’s surprise when the host introduces her ex-boyfriend as the next performer.

Her immediate instinct is to sink into her chair and hide from sight from him. As if Sam would be capable of discerning her in the audience through the blinding brightness of the front of house lights.

Dorian squeezes her hand once in an invisible show of support. He’s not able to do anything else, and there’s undoubtedly at least one camera aimed at both of their faces right now, trying to capture Aelin’s reaction at seeing her ex.

“No one said that Sam was performing,” Aelin hisses through her smile.

Dorian squeezes her fingers once more. “Because you wouldn’t have come.”

“You’re damn right!” she says perhaps a bit too loudly. Aelin just barely manages to hide the guilty wince, but lucky for her, it seems as if everyone else is too busy watching Sam to notice her.

> _I fell by the wayside like everyone else  
>  I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself  
> Our every moment, I start to replace  
> ‘Cause now that they’re gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say_

When the music reaches her ears, it’s family, and yet, it’s not. Aelin forgets all about yelling at Dorian to pay better attention.

> _When you hurt under the surface  
>  Like troubled water running cold  
> Well, time can heal, but this won’t_

Aelin sits up straighter in her seat, drawn in by the melody and the sound of Sam’s voice. She’s always liked his singing voice, appreciated the heart and soul with which Sam always performed, even on his bad days.

Yet, the lyrics don’t sound like Sam. They sound like someone else.

> _Was never the right time, whenever you called  
>  Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all  
> Our every moment, I start to replay  
> But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face_

Aelin begins elbowing Dorian persistently to get his attention. He shoots her a look telling her exactly how he feels about being interrupted during the performance again.

She ignores him. Dorian doesn’t scare her. “Where have I heard this song before?”

“Nowhere,” he tells her. “This is the debut.”

> _So, before you go  
>  Was there something I could’ve said to make your heart beat better?  
> If only I’d have known you had a storm to weather  
> So, before you go  
> Was there something I could’ve said to make it all stop hurting?  
> It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless  
> So, before you go_

“Who wrote it?” Aelin asks, disrupting the song once more. When he ignores her, she pinches him. “ _Dor.”_

He groans, rubbing at his face in dismay. The expression on Dorian’s face confirms what Aelin already suspected. She sucks in an unsteady breath, leaning back into her chair.

> _Would we be better off by now  
>  If I’d have let my walls come down?  
> Maybe, I guess we’ll never know  
> You know, you know_

“Rowan,” Aelin breathes. “Rowan wrote it.”

Maybe it was egotistical of her to assume that, without Aelin, Rowan would quit the music industry. He’s loved music longer than he’s known Aelin. Still, the revelation stings, realizing that Rowan producing his own music, writing songs for other artists—not her.

It’s more surprising, though, to watch her former boyfriend sing a song written by the man that broke up their relationship. Shit, Aelin really hates these award shows. There’s always _something._

> _So, before you go_

Applause breaks out as Sam finishes the song. Aelin claps, trying to hold back the tears that threaten her eyes. She’s aware of the eyes on her right now, of the vultures circling her, waiting for their chance to start another rumor.

_Sam Cortland’s breakup song brings ex-girlfriend to tears._

_Aelin Galathynius still hung up on Sam Cortland?_

She won’t give them anything. Nothing.

As the live show cuts to a commercial break, the audience relaxes. The celebrities in attendance are performing just as hard as anyone on the stage.

Dorian sighs. “I suppose its time for you to leave me to fend for myself.”

Aelin laughs and gives his arm a squeeze. Spoken into existence, an attendant appears to lead Aelin away. They’ll be rearranging the audience soon, trying to pair people together to get the best audience footage. Dorian is probably off to bump elbows with another of his dad’s recording artists.

Aelin, on the other hand, is off to perform a new song.

“You could always jump up on stage and sing us all a diddy,” she suggests with a smile. “Maybe you’ll put me out of my job.”

Dorian mocks a bow. “It would be my pleasure, but we all know that they’re really here to see you, Ace.”

“Shit,” Aelin breathes. “No pressure, man.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius slated to close the Erilea Music awards.**

Aelin doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the leotards or beaded dresses that come with being a pop star, but somehow, she keeps finding herself in them. She misses her leather pants and dirty t-shirt look from her Cadre days.

People are far too concerned with what she’s wearing, Aelin thinks. She knows that she only feeds into the obsession. After all, it was only a matter of weeks ago that she and Chaol walked around her block just to let the media get a taste.

 _Feeding the wolves_ , she called it.

Chaol found her phrasing odd. _Isn’t it supposed to be “keeping the wolves at bay?”_

Aelin laughed it off, but something about the conversation nags at her still. When did Aelin start to give all of these people so much power over her?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this calm before a performance,” a familiar voice says. Aelin’s eyes fall closed as they take their seat beside her, the couch shifting beneath their weight. “You’re not even doing your potty dance.”

This is where Aelin would usually cut her best glare in Rowan Whitethorn’s direction, tell him to fuck off, and then break into laughter. Instead, she takes a deep breath and sighs, looking towards her best friend. Former best friend, she reminds herself. It’s an important distinction.

The man sitting beside her should never be allowed to wear a tux. It must be illegal. Aelin takes a moment to drink in his appearance anyway.

“Once you’re in this thing, there’s no taking it off,” Aelin says, deflecting with humor. She picks at the shiny fabric. “I’ve had to retrain my bladder.”

She laughs it off, but Rowan sees right through her. Aelin’s feeling too numb to concern herself with that or how his face falls at the sight of her empty eyes. His green eyes search her face for the answers to his question. She pretends not to recognize the question.

“Aelin,” he breathes her name so softly that she almost doesn’t hear it. “What’s wrong?”

This is the closest that she’s let Rowan be to her in over a year. Aelin’s eyes fall closed again; she doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t want to face her problems, yet. She’s spent all this time running from them for a reason.

Yet, he’s still Rowan, and she’s still Aelin.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” she tells him quietly, after far too long of a pause.

Aelin can feel him tense beside her without looking, without opening her eyes. “Performing?”

Rowan knows that that isn’t it, that Aelin’s admitting to something much bigger than that, but he’s testing the waters, waiting to see how long it takes for her to go running. A stagehand calls for Aelin Galathynius. She opens her eyes with another sigh, looking into his worried face.

“I just don’t want to anymore,” she admits, rising from the couch and plastering on her performer’s smile. It’s time.

Aelin heads for the entrance into the backstage area, but Rowan follows, hot on her heels. He won’t back down from this. Maybe that’s why she told him.

“What do you mean, Aelin?”

She ignores him, attempting to put as much distance as possible between them as quickly as possible. Rowan can’t follow her onto the stage, so that’s where Aelin is headed.

“ _Aelin_ ,” he says in that familiar pissed-off tone of his. She knows it for what it actually is; Rowan’s not angry but worried. Scared, even. “ _What don’t you want to do anymore?_ ”

“Don’t let him through,” Aelin commands as she passes the wall of security, both her own and the venue’s staff. It’s a telling moment, a line drawn in the sand. At some point, Aelin’s fame outgrew his. In this world, defined by who has access and who doesn’t, Aelin outranks him.

Rowan locks his jaw and stares down the nearest member—Chaol. To his credit, her newest hire returns the steely look and doesn’t back down. It’s one hell of a feat. Rowan positively dwarfs him.

“Aelin.” Rowan’s eyes find hers.

She has to look away. On the monitors, the evening’s host has begun her introduction; she doesn’t have very much time left to idle backstage. Not if she’s going to make her mark in time.

“He’s on the blacklist,” Aelin says coldly. A sharp reminder of how she’s managed to avoid him all this time. She turns to leave before Rowan can pick a fight with someone. That’s precisely what she doesn’t need right now—another fucking headline dragging her name through the mud.

_Aelin Galathynius: her catty behavior backstage of the Erilea Music Awards._

_Has stardom gone to Aelin’s head?_

_Diva gone wild—Aelin Galathynius picks fight with former bandmate._

“Aelin!” Rowan barks one more time after her. She doesn’t turn back.

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares backstage selfie before going live.**

The stage is dim, just enough light to create the silhouettes of Aelin and her band. Yet, the crowd is already screaming her name, creating a deafening roar. She thought she’d get used to this by now, the adulation. It can be… a lot to handle sometimes.

> _Bite my tongue, bide my time  
>  Wearing a warning sign  
> Wait 'til the world is mine_

No. That’s not right. Aelin loves her fans, she reminds herself. They’re the only reason she’s even here.

> _Visions I vandalize  
>  Cold in my kingdom size  
> Fell for these ocean eyes_

Lorcan is with her tonight, filling in for her drummer. To say he’s having a ball playing her _shitty pop music_ would be an understatement. Lorcan’s just in denial, afraid to ruin that rocker image of his.

> _You should see me in a crown  
>  I’m gonna run this nothing town  
> Watch me make 'em bow  
> One by one by, one  
> One by one by_

Aelin also suspects the fiery guitarist standing to her right makes this performance carry a certain appeal for Lorcan. Either way, it’s nice to have him here with her. 

> _Count my cards, watch them fall  
>  Blood on a marble wall  
> I like the way they all  
> Scream_

Except for the glitter and choreography, it almost feels like old times. Having Lorcan in rehearsals while Aelin reworked the music for a live performance may or may not have made the music a little heavier than what she recorded.

> _Tell me which one is worse  
>  Living or dying first  
> Sleeping inside a hearse  
> I don’t dream_

Then the music goes quiet, and the stage lights dim. 

> _You say  
>  Come over baby  
> I think you’re pretty  
> I’m okay  
> I’m not your baby  
> If you think I’m pretty_

Let the media think of these lyrics in the morning as they write their stories about her, about her friends, about the strangers in the audience that they’ll weave together for their entertainment.

Aelin doesn’t know when she got this way, when her relationship with the public eye went so sour. Yet, here she is, taunting them at her every opportunity.

The music ends, and the applause begins. Aelin drops the persona and smiles for the camera and for the audience. She’s here, and she’s appreciative of it. Artist of the Year—it’s a huge deal if she wins.

Still, as the curtain falls and Aelin flees the stage, she can’t help but wonder if maybe that angry girl on stage was the real Aelin, and this happy facade is the fake.

###  **Erilea Artist of the Year Award goes to Aelin Galathynius!**


	24. Chapter 24

###  **Aelin Galathynius announces her next album,** _ **Fireheart**_ **.**

The album’s name is obvious when Lorcan points out the fire imagery in her lyrics. At first, Aelin scoffs because naming her album after herself, after the nickname her mother refers to her by, is weird. It’s personal. It’s perfect.

The weeks following the award show are filled with obsession. Aelin can tell she’s obsessing over her music; she always gets like this during these times. It’s a lot of fucking work to make an album, to write and record and promote it.

Yet, it keeps her busy, and Aelin thinks that is for the best.

Rowan hasn’t tried to get in touch with her since that night. Or rather, Aelin hasn’t heard word that he has. Putting Rowan on her blacklist was akin to blocking him on all social media platforms, which she had Essar do right away.

It’s better this way. For both of them.

###  **What will Aelin Galathynius’s next single be?**

“Is this something you do often?” Chaol calls out from his station in the foyer. Aelin has an interview to record this morning, and he’s waiting to escort her from her front door to the car, then off to the studio.

However, Aelin is running fashionably late as always. She raises a brow at him, resting a hand on one hip. She’s not going to let him make her feel bad for her faults. “Showing up late for things? Yeah. Kind of my thing.”

“Noted, but that’s not what I was asking about.” Chaol lets out a harsh breath. Aelin shoots him a look of warning. The security guard likes to toe the line with her sometimes; he’s surprisingly unafraid of insulting the celebrity he works for.

The other bodyguard on her team today is Ress, Chaol’s complete opposite. The guy can barely look her in the eye sometimes, but Aelin suspects that might have more to do with how madly the poor thing blushes whenever she so much as looks in his direction. Aelin finds it really fucking cute, honestly.

“There’s a real chip on your shoulder, you know that?” Aelin tells him. “You’d be much more attractive if you learned to laugh a little, Westfall. Let loose. Have some fun.”

Chaol ignores her entirely. “I was referring to the staying up for days on end thing,” he tells her. “Is that normal for you to do? I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep for more than a few hours the last week or so.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching me so closely, Westfall,” Aelin deflects, flashing Chaol a lascivious smile. He narrows his eyes at her, and she takes the hint.

_Aelin Galathynius accused of sexual harassment_. Yeah, her parents would love to read that one in the morning papers.

“It happens when I’m working.” Aelin shrugs it off.

He doesn’t back down, observing, “You could barely stay awake on the flight to Erilea last month—or back home.”

It’s an unwanted comment, pointing out some things that Aelin is trying very hard to ignore. “I was tired.”

Aelin puts on her heels as she heads for the exit, doing that classic dance number of hopping from one foot to another. She pauses in from of her security detail, holding her hands out to the side and doings a little spin.

“Well, how do I look?”

Chaol looks up from his phone; he’s likely texting Ress that they’re on their way out. She feels more than a little proud at the way his face drops in surprise at the sight of her.

Aelin’s team worked very hard to put together the ensemble, an all-black look from the jeans to the leather jacket. It’s skin-tight fit leaves very little to the imagination despite the small amount of skin revealed.

There’s no fighting the satisfied smile that spreads across her face. “Why, Westfall. I think I just cracked through that stern face of yours.”

Still, he recovers quickly, his scowl returning. “We’re late.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” Aelin says with exasperation, sliding a pair of shades onto her face. “But you’re working for a rockstar—we’re always late. It’s in the rulebook.”

###  **Aelin Galathynius answers questions with puppies.**

“Oh. My. Fucking. Gods. PUPPIES!” Aelin positively screams at the sight that she finds in the interview space. No one told her that there was going to be _puppies_. Otherwise, Aelin would have totally been on time.

The people in the room laugh, cameras running already to capture her reactions. Aelin drops to her knees with a total disregard for her outfit. She holds out her arms to beckon the yipping puppies her way.

“Come here, puppies!”

To her complete delight, the dogs run her way, charging full speed ahead. Aelin doesn’t know if she wants to scream or laugh or cry—maybe all of the above.

Someone says something to her, but Aelin only has eyes for the puppies in front of her. They bark and jump around, and she can definitely feel the tears coming on. Her smile is so big it hurts her face.

“Ae,” a voice calls. Essar, she thinks.

“Huh?” Aelin squints up at the lights.

Another unfamiliar voice speaks, “Today we’re going to interview with some puppies that are up for adoption. Is that okay with you?”

Crying it is then. Aelin can’t see the person past the blinding studio lights, so she does her best to guess where they’re standing. “Fuck yeah, it’s okay!”

There’s another round of laughter. Aelin starts to play with the dogs, sweet-talking to them. “What do you say, puppies? Wanna get adopted?”

“Aelin.” Essar’s voice is light and teasing.

When Aelin meets her assistant’s eye, Essar is smiling wide, happy to see Aelin so delighted. Essar knows better than most how down Aelin gets. She can only hide so much from someone who’s _always_ with her.

“Yeah?” A puppy nips at her fingers, and Aelin squeals with delight.

Essar smiles again, and the crew chuckles at her. It’s a good thing that Aelin doesn’t feel very much shame when it comes to amusing people.

Aelin’s assistant has to bite her lip to control herself. “They asked you a question.”

“Oh, shit!” Aelin exclaims, earning a yelp from the puppy curled up in her lap. She’s kind of in love with this scruffy, blonde one. She’s cuddly and cute as shit. “Yeah, good luck with getting me to pay any fucking attention right now.”

“Just do the intro for them, Ae,” Essar’s voice sounds out, her laughter evident in her voice. Aelin scoops up the scruffy puppy, holding it close to her chest and smiling for the camera. That performer smile slides into place.

“Hello, I am Aelin Galathynius, and I’m about to play with some puppies!” She can’t hold back the silly smile. “I mean, answer some questions.”

###  **_Meet Fleetfoot_** **, Aelin Galathynius shares new puppy on Instagram.**

“ _You’re hovering_ ,” Aelin sing-songs from the baby grand in the dining room.

Her fingers trail across the black and white keys to create a dramatic and flourishing tune to match her singing. She steps on the sustain pedal, creating an even louder effect. Aelin intends to be as annoying as possible while being babysat.

Vaughan remains expressionless from the couch. He’s almost worse than Rowan.

The thought of the broody man dampers her mood, and Aelin pushes the thought away before she can crash again. She’s been doing pretty great here lately, and she doesn’t want to ruin it.

Determined to get Vaughan to crack, Aelin runs her fingers up the scales. She has to sing louder to be heard above the music, but that’s never really been a problem for her. “ _I’m fine!”_

At that, Vaughan turns to face her, one brow raised to express his disbelief. Aelin kicks it up a notch.

“ _You don’t have to babysit me_ ,” she belts, holding the E sound until she runs out of every last drop of air in her lungs. At that, her friend flashes her a fond and impressed smile.

“I bet your governess had a hell of a time watching you,” he theorizes. Aelin lets go of the pedal, allowing the music to fade away. She scoffs.

“I think you got me mixed up with some other rich girl, Vagabond.” Vaughan scowls at the use of his assigned nickname. “I didn’t have anything like a governess.”

The bassist turned author doesn’t back down. Aelin holds his expression with a glare of her own, but it doesn’t work. At last, a smile cracks the grim facade of his, know that he’s won. Aelin growls and flips him off.

“Fuck you!” Vaughan breaks into laughter, and Aelin frowns. “My parents worked a lot, running a massive company. Live-in nannies are _totally_ normal!”

“Most people have their grandparents watch them or some shit, Ace,” he tells her through his laughter. Aelin works hard not to laugh, too. He’s making fun of her; this is no time to agree that he’s funny. Quiet bastard.

“Whatever.” She shrugs, transitioning into another song. “I still don’t need a babysitter. You boys have been all over my dick here lately.”

“Well, it’s a very nice dick,” he snarks. Aelin chokes on a laugh.

“Vaughan,” she whines. “I mean it. I’m totally fine. You guys can stop worrying.”

Her friend’s face turns solemn. He’s not the only person who’s been hovering around her lately, finding odd excuses to drop by and check on her. Lorcan is the biggest pain in her ass, but Lysandra keeps sweeping through Aelin’s home as well, pretending to come by to play with Aelin’s new puppy.

“Rowan called Lor,” he finally admits. Aelin’s fingers trip over the keys of the piano and her eyes shoot to Vaughan. He continues, guiltily, “He said… He said that you were saying things. Things that made Rowan concerned.”

Aelin scoffs to play off the weird mixture of guilt and anger that surges through her. Guilt because she worried Rowan; anger because he’s meddling in her life.

“Rowan’s always been a worrywart.”

“Rowan’s also always known you best, Ace,” Vaughan tells her pointedly. “If he says, there’s a reason to be worried. It’s probably true.”

Aelin doesn’t have anything to say to that, so she begins to play again, effectively ending the conversation. She’s not ready to talk about that. Not yet.

###  **Aelin Galathynius to announce next single via Livestream.**

There were a lot of arguments about how to announce the next single. The studio insisted they do things the old school way, but Aelin and her team decided that this was how it needed to be. Most of her interactions with her fans this past year were via social media, through livestreams and twitter interviews.

Aelin was more than capable of handling the release of her own song. She’s been doing this for over six years of her life. One might consider that Aelin knows what she’s doing by now.

There’s a drumroll, and then Lorcan taunts, “You ready to go, Lochan?”

Aelin watches the pair with a curious smile. Gavriel says that they need to look for another drummer, that her old one isn’t going to be able to come back for another tour. Aelin thinks she might have already found the replacement.

Elide barely stands taller than Lorcan sits, but the guitarist manages to look down on him as if he’s nothing more than the carpet beneath her feet. Her hands rest calmly against the body of her instrument; Aelin thinks it’s severely unfair how chill Elide is before a show.

“Just try and keep up, Salvaterre.” She says, and with that, the brunette looks away. A clear dismissal. Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever seen Lorcan look so hooked before. He’s like a dog with a bone, clamoring for every ounce of abuse Elide is ready and waiting to dish out to him.

Lorcan notices her watching. “Got something to say, Pop Star?”

“Have you ever met me?” Aelin quips. “I always have something to say.”

They break into laughter until a small cough interrupts them. Essar gives her a questioning look. With a nod, the assistant signals to start filming, and Aelin smiles that smile.

“Hey, guys!” Aelin throws her hands into the air. “Welcome to my home. My hair is lavender. And this is my new single, _Water Under the Bridge!”_

###  **Watch Aelin Galathynius perform** _ **Water Under the Bridge**_ **live!**

Lorcan counts the band in, and the music starts. Aelin loves a good processed-to-perfection pop song as much as the next person, but if she was honest, the live mixes for her songs—those were her favorite.

> _If you’re not the one for me_
> 
> _Then how come I can bring you to your knees_
> 
> _If you’re not the one for me_
> 
> _Why do I hate the idea of being free?_

Aedion liked to tease her that her live performances were throwbacks to her Cadre Days. Aelin couldn’t really argue the fact. Her roots were sewn in those days, sharing dirty jokes with her bandmates and writing raw music. She misses it. A lot.

> _And if I’m not the one for you_
> 
> _You’ve gotta stop holding me the way you do_
> 
> _Oh honey if I’m not the one for you_
> 
> _Why have we been through what we have been through_

Perhaps, it was fucked up, but sometimes Aelin liked to think that Rowan was listening in on these performances, critiquing the simplicity of her melodies and praising her lyrics—likely mocking her for writing yet _another_ breakup song.

> _It’s so cold out here in your wilderness_
> 
> _I want you to be my keeper_
> 
> _But not if you are so reckless_

Maybe the lyrics were a little telling, a little bit of a message. Aelin would just have to count on the fact that she’s managed to keep her real dating life under wraps, that only her closest friends know or suspect who this song is about. Not that there is very much to know. Occasionally, Aelin brings someone home. Sometimes that person is Dorian. It all leaves her feeling emptier than in the first place.

> _What are you waiting for?_
> 
> _You never seem to make it through the door_
> 
> _And who are you hiding from?_
> 
> _It ain’t no life to live like you’re on the run_
> 
> _Have I ever asked for much?_
> 
> _The only thing that I want is your love_

Fuck, songwriting could be so damn personal sometimes.

> _If you’re gonna let me down, let me down gently_
> 
> _Don’t pretend that you don’t want me_
> 
> _Our love ain’t water under the bridge_
> 
> _If you’re gonna let me down, let me down gently_
> 
> _Don’t pretend that you don’t want me_
> 
> _Our love ain’t water under the bridge_
> 
> _Say that our love ain’t water under the bridge_

Aelin isn’t sure that this is the best call for the next single, but it’s the one that felt right. No going back now; Aelin would just have to trust her gut. The song is out there now. No take-backs.

###  **Spotted: Lorcan Salvaterre playing drums for Aelin Galathynius.**

“So, who broke your heart?” Chaol asks in the quiet of the evening.

Aelin uses the drag of the cigarette she just took as an excuse to not have to say anything. She holds her breath and observes him, trying to decide if he’s the one she wants to mention this too. It seems unwise to let another person into her disaster of a life.

Chaol just returns the gaze from his spot, tucked in the corner of her balcony. Aelin can’t even sit on her balcony for a smoke without supervision—without _protection_. “I know you like to pretend to be such a badass, but your music—it goes without saying that you’ve been burned. And not just by the media.”

She exhales as she speaks, flicking the cigarette with irreverence. “An astute observation, Westfall.”

“You’re lonely,” he pushes.

“Of course, I’m lonely,” Aelin agrees, rising from her chair and putting out her cigarette. The flashing of cameras has begun from the property line; the assault is about to begin. “I’m famous.”

###  **_Fireheart_** **on sale now!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! I promise I have noticed them, and I will respond. I'm WAY behind on going through comments/recs for music/etc. Bear with me. :)

###  **Aelin Galathynius lets fans interview her online!**

“Fireheart,” her mother calls her from the other side of the townhouse.

The two of them have been lazing about today, keeping each other company while her father plays with Fleetfoot in the backyard. Rhoe and the puppy have quickly become the best of pals. Aelin is pretty sure she’s heard her father refer to the canine as his “grandpuppy.”

“Huh?” Her response earns an exasperated look, her mother huffing at her child’s total lack of etiquette. Aelin remains where she is, sitting upside down in an armchair and watching reality tv. She knows she shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but it’s probably all staged anyway.

When it becomes apparent that Aelin has no plans of moving—putting together a global stadium tour is a lot of fucking work, okay?—Evalin appears, bearing a bouquet of flowers. The usual receiver of deliveries, Essar, is not here today, and her mother was more than happy to get the door to save her daughter from having to move her tired muscles.

Essar deserved the day off. Shit, she’s earned more than a day, but that was all Aelin could afford. She’s about to put both of them through hell and back for the next six months. At least, the assistant is getting her rest today.

“Someone sent you flowers, Ae,” her mother tells her, brushing her manicured fingers through the flowers in admiration.

Aelin shrugs indifferently, even if it bothers her a little to receive them. There isn’t anyone that Aelin can think of who would send her flowers—that she would _want_ to receive flowers from. It’s probably someone just trying to kiss her ass, earn her attention, use her stardom for their own devices.

“Take them home with you,” she tells her mom. “I’m only going to give them a slow death. We fly out in a few days, anyway, assuming they live that long.”

Evalin makes a sound of despair. “But they’re so beautiful!”

They share a look, and her mother sighs. “At least send them a thank you note, Aelin. It’s only polite. Here! Let’s see who sent them—oh.”

Warning sirens go off inside of Aelin’s head at her mother’s tone, at her mother’s expression. It wasn’t the best reaction. Not a good sign. Aelin shifts her body into an upright position, suspicious. “What?”

“Nothing!” her mother tells her too quickly. “There’s no name. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mom,” Aelin insists. Evalin Galathynius is a terrible liar; she sees right through her mother’s act. “Who sent the flowers?

There’s a moment where her mother looks inclined to stuff the card in her mouth and eat it to hide the evidence. Aelin didn’t inherit that dramatic nature of hers from father, after all. If so, Aedion and her wouldn’t have caused nearly as much trouble as kids.

The Ashryver line is full of performers.

“Let me see.” Aelin snatches the note from her mother before she can get rid of it. Evalin scowls at her daughter, her face the picture of an irritated bunny.

The card is printed, so Aelin isn’t able to identify the gifter via the handwriting.

> _Congrats on the album. You kicked ass._
> 
> _PS, your hair looks ridiculous._
> 
> _—R_

Aelin’s breath catches. Even without the ominous little R at the end, she’d be able to figure out who sent the flowers thanks to that hair comment. Asshole.

Gritting her teeth, she hands the note back to her mother. Evalin accepts it with eyes bright with worry. Aelin doesn’t know how Rowan managed to send these to her, to get them through her web of security and people whose job it is to filter this kind of thing out.

“Take them,” Aelin tells her mother quietly. “I don’t want them.”

“Oh, Aelin,” Evalin chastises gently. There’s no real heat behind her words, but Aelin’s mother is still a Rowan fan even after all of this time without him around. “Don’t you think that’s a little hard, dear? He’s clearly trying to mend bridges.”

“Well, I’m burning them back down,” Aelin hisses. At the sound of her distress, Fleetfoot races into the house, nails tapping rapidly against the hardwoods as she runs for her mom. The puppy has a knack for knowing when Aelin is upset; she’s always the first on the scene to cheer her up.

“Fireheart…” Evalin begins.

“I just want him to stay away,” Aelin interrupts, practically whining. She picks her puppy off the ground and holds her close. Fleetfoot is growing so quickly; she’ll be too big to lift soon enough.

Fleetfoot licks a stripe right up the side of her face, and Aelin laughs. “I don’t need flowers or shit. I need him to leave me alone. It’s over.”

Evalin sighs deeply. The first sign that she’s about to drop some life-altering advice in Aelin’s lap. “If it’s real, a connection between two people, it’s never really over.”

###  **The _Fireheart Stadium Tour_ continues!**

Touring is its own particular kind of hell.

Aelin really does love performing, having an opportunity to play her music, and reach her fans up close. Going out on the stage every night to do what she does is just about the only thing keeping Aelin sane these days. It keeps her going, but it’s also brutal.

The traveling, the constant state of “What city is this?” and “What is the name of the arena?” has begun to wear on Aelin, sinking a certain type of tiredness into her bones. Somedays, Aelin sleeps more hours than she’s awake. Yet, she always gets up for the fans, though.

It was easier when Aelin was with the band. Someone was usually able to tell her where the band was at, what was going on. Usually Rowan. He always was there to keep Aelin’s head on straight, but she doesn’t have that anymore.

Aelin isn’t sure that’s such a bad thing, though. Aelin needs to learn to stand on her own two feet, but she’s just so tired.

###  **The _Fireheart Stadium Tour_ goes global!**

“Thank you, Orynth, for a fantastic evening!” Aelin shouts into the microphone. “You’ve all been amazing! Have a great night! And see you again very soon!”

She notices all of the missed calls and messages after the curtain call. The show was great, and Aelin was very ready to go drink her weight in water and then sleep for eternity. She’s always so exhausted after a show.

Aelin considers just putting off returning the messages until after her meet and greet, but a little banner on her lock screen catches her attention—15 missed calls from Aedion Ashryver.

Her cousin answers on the very first ring. His words stop her heart, “Hey, are you sitting down?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her mind running away with itself. The last time Aelin got a call from someone with a voice that sounded like that, her mother was calling to tell her that her father had had a heart attack. It was brutal—crushing—but everything turned out okay.

There’s something in Aedion’s tone that tells her that things are very far from being okay.

Essar enters, chatting about the plans for tomorrow and wearing her fighting face. When she notices Aelin’s stricken face, she stops dead in her tracks, eyeing her friend and boss carefully. This is not the usual post-show high she finds the singer in.

Aelin sits down on command—a rare thing for her. She takes a deep breath, preparing for the worse. “I am now.”

###  **Former The Cadre band members open new club, Moonbeams.**

The thing about being famous is that the stardom doesn’t stop just because the world has come crashing down around Aelin. She puts on a brave face and charges in headfirst to her meet and greet. Essar shadows her, secretively arranging their flight back to Doranelle as Aelin works the room, smiling and bantering with the crowd.

Aelin couldn’t bring herself to cancel the event now, not at the last minute like this. It’d break the hearts of her fans. These people only paid a small fortune to see her, to get a shot at meeting her in person backstage. Aelin doesn’t charge for the meet and greets. She and her team pluck people out of the crowd who catch their eye—it’s all up to chance that way, not money.

Later, she’ll feel terrible for how she barely remembers the hour and a half she’s spent with her fans. Pictures of that performer’s smile will be all over the internet with beaming fans on either arm. Aelin will feel like shit about it, tear herself into pieces over only being able to give half of herself to them.

Later.

###  **How much is Aelin Galathynius’s private jet worth?**

Usually, Aelin’s plane flights are filled with activity, anything from business discussions to familial arguments to Essar and Aelin’s drunken antics. The plane ride from Terrasen to Wendlyn is silent and tense. Aelin stares out one of the windows into the darkness, mind vacant and unfeeling. Essar sits beside her, in a quiet show of support.

Essar comes along for the drive across Doranelle, too. Before Aelin realizes, they’re ordering a car to take them from the airport to a no longer familiar corner of town, to a shitty apartment that used to feel like her home.

The baby—Thea is screaming so loud that Aelin can hear her from the street. It gets louder the closer she gets towards the door. Essar waits in the car, hiding behind tinted windows; Chaol trails after her, a permanent shadow.

There’s a pretty good chance that Aelin will be back at the car very soon, that he’ll ignore the door just like she deserves, but Aelin can’t just not try.

“This is where Rowan Whitethorn _lives_?” Chaol asks her with undisguised surprise and maybe more than a little disgust. It’s certainly nowhere near the glitz and glamor of Aelin’s growing real estate portfolio. It turns out Aelin really enjoys buying and decorating houses.

“He’s always been a ‘live beneath your means’ kind of guy,” she tells Chaol, pushing the creaky door open with all of her body weight. Someone should really do something about those fucked up hinges.

Aelin holds the door open for Chaol, and he raises a brow at the role reversal. As he passes, she says, “Becoming famous didn’t change that.”

###  **The Cadre’s bassist is also a published author?**

The halls are as barren as they’ve always been, but Aelin finds herself pretty thankful for that. Chaol waits at the landing, in clear view of the door, but far enough to give her some semblance of privacy.

The door looks exactly the same. Aelin takes a deep breath and knocks as loudly as she dares. She can’t be sure if it’s even audible over the crying, but it feels like testing fate to knock too hard.

A head peeks out of a doorway. Aelin recognizes him from another lifetime, filled with dance-offs and good food and better music; the band named an album after him. The prick. The Noisy Neighbor himself.

He calls down the hallway, “Why don’t you tell that kid to shut the fuck up while you’re in there, huh?”

“Eat shit,” she yells without thinking about it, causing the grubby man to pale with surprise. Chaol snorts from his spot at the end of the hallway, and she can’t resist flashing the man a grin, feeling accomplished at breaking his stoicism.

While Aelin’s back is turned, Rowan opens the door behind her. She gasps, spinning around. Seeing him after all these months—it’s a lot.

Rowan looks like hell. His face is drawn tight, and heavy dark circles weigh under his dull, green eyes. Still, Aelin thinks he’s the best thing she’s seen in months. For a long time, they stare at each other, neither speaking, and then Rowan closes the door in her face.

“Rowan,” she pleads through the door, hands resting against the metal of the door. Aelin deserves this, of course. She deserves way worse than this. “Please, I came as soon as I heard the news.”

No response. A familiar tactic. Aelin wonders where on earth he learned it from. She tries again. “I want to help—to be here for you.”

Rowan always did cave faster than she did, mostly because he knew in a battle of wills, they’d both starve before someone relented. Aelin would gladly waste away before she admitted to being wrong or sorry.

One green eye peers out at her from behind the chained door. “How could you possibly help?”

Aelin swallows. She doesn’t know; she just knows she needs to. “I—”

The door opens so fast she nearly falls forward, and Aelin’s heart leaps with hope. Truthfully, Aelin knows nothing about this situation, what to do; she’s not sure just how much help she can be, but she wants to help. Aelin has to help.

“Row—“

“What? You think you can just show up at my door after all of this time and just— _help_?” Rowan’s words drip with venom. He’s furious, and rightly so. It’s been over two years since Aelin cut him out of her life. “Fuck you, Aelin. You can’t decide to be my friend when you feel like it.”

“I’m always your friend,” she defends, tears burning her eyes at last. Aelin wondered how long it would take for her to start crying.

“My wife is dead,” Rowan hisses, voice breaking on the words, his grief so intense that it knocks the wind from both of their lungs. Aelin’s tears fall freely. “Unless you know how to bring her back, you can’t help me, so just fuck off. I’ve got this under control—without you.”

This time the door slams.

###  **How much is Aelin Galathynius actually worth?**

Aelin waits longer than necessary for Rowan to reopen the door, relent one more time so that they can both apologize for being fucking assholes and move forward. He doesn’t.

It’s fair. It’d be selfish to expect Rowan to put anything above his daughter and himself right now. Aelin must be way low on the list of his priorities with how she’s treated their friendship these last years. Still, it feels like shit.

Chaol tries to talk to her on the way out of the apartment complex; trying to offer solace or advice, Aelin isn’t sure. She ignores all of it, too busy battling her inner demons to try to listen to him. Eventually, he gives up, walking ahead of her to grab the door for Aelin like he’s supposed to.

Aelin slides into the backseat without a word to him. She speaks to Essar without making eye contact. “When is takeoff?”

“Whenever you want it to be,” Essar answers flawlessly. She scrolls through her phone, managing Aelin’s life better than she ever could. “It’s your plane. It will leave when you want it to, but we _should_ leave by the morning after tomorrow. If we want to make it in time for the rehearsals in Perranth.”

“Let’s do that then,” she sighs.

Essar nods once in response. “Do you want to get something to eat? I can order us something from Emrys’s if you’d like.”

“I think I’d just like to go home. I’m beat.” Aelin doesn’t have much of an appetite right now.

“The apartment or the townhouse?”

Aelin’s laugh is a little crazed. It still startles her, having to discern between what home she wants to stay in. This is the kind of thing Lorcan would _absolutely_ make fun of her for were he to ever find out. She’d left without even talking to Lor. Shit, he was going to be totally pissed with her.

“My parents’ place, I think.” Aelin decides after a long silence. Without being told, the car pulls away from the curb. Fleetfoot is staying with her parents while her tour travels internationally; Aelin thinks she could do with some puppy snuggles and her mother’s home cooking.

In the meantime, she’d figure out what to do about Rowan.

###  **BREAKING: Rowan Whitethorn’s wife lost in fatal car crash.**


	26. Chapter 26

###  **Aelin Galathynius, seen in Doranelle!**

Aelin returns to Rowan’s apartment twice before leaving. By some miracle, the reporters aren’t stalking his apartment complex when she arrives either time. Aelin guesses that it’s not as interesting to hound a widower as it is some international pop star—like her. Good thing that none of them have realized she’s back in town.

The first time she knocks, there’s no answer. Aelin doesn’t know if it's because Rowan isn’t home, or if it’s due to the fact he’s ignoring her. She chooses to believe he isn’t home; Rowan never passes up an opportunity to fight with Aelin when he’s going through something. It always makes him feel better.

The alternative that Aelin’s officially succeeded at pushing the stubborn bastard away is too much to bear. Instead, she focuses on helping him, even if it’s just by annoying the shit out of him.

The second time, Aelin knows he’s there. The sound of the guitar playing gives Rowan away quicker than any light under the door could. Her heart leaps at the noise; it’s been a very long time since Aelin last listened to Rowan play. She’s tempted to just stand there and listen rather than knock; Aelin knows the music will stop once she does.

Chaol tilts his head in a silent question from the end of the hall, but Aelin ignores him. She drinks in the sound of the music a little longer, and then she slides the envelope under the door with all of the strength she can manage, listening as it skids under the hardwood floor. Lucky for her, no one’s ever fixed the gap beneath his front door.

Aelin holds her breath, waiting to see if Rowan picks it up. The music stops.

“Aelin,” Chaol calls softly, almost inaudibly. “Photographers are in the lobby downstairs.”

Right. Because Rowan Whitethorn doesn’t live in a private building. Her stupid, stubborn buzzard.

She waves the _Protection Officer_ off. Apparently, the term bodyguard isn’t correct, per Evalin Galathynius, Aelin was under orders from her loving mother to make an attempt to stop demeaning Mr. Westfall.

She strains her ears, catching the sound of footsteps approaching the door. Aelin’s heart leaps in her throw, and even though she’s only come to try and see him, to check on him, hearing him come close to the door triggers her flight response. Aelin nearly runs away.

Aelin can practically picture him on the other side of the door. A frumpy, upset Rowan crossing the small apartment and glaring at the envelope, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. He’ll pick it up, both because he can’t help not knowing what it is and because he has a toddler in the house.

If Aelin closes her eyes, she can imagine him turning it over a few times to identify it, grumbling something crude under his breath when it bears no return address. Rowan will open it to find out, and at first, he’ll consider throwing the paper away when he recognizes her horrific handwriting. Maybe he’ll even crumple it up.

Chaol calls her name again. A warning. She flips him off and keeps waiting. Hoping.

A few more footfalls, and then a single strum of the guitar. As classically sad as it gets. The first chord she wrote.

Another one doesn’t follow, but Aelin can’t wait any longer. Chaol hisses from the stairwell. She needs to go, anyway, head for the airport. Besides, the reporters will be upstairs to violate Rowan’s privacy any minute now. Aelin thinks she’ll send her security detail in to chase them off before leaving.

They sneak out the side entrance into a creepy alleyway, and Aelin has to resist turning around and running back upstairs. She can’t let her fans down, but at the same time, Aelin knows that if Rowan opened that door, she’d cancel every last one of her remaining shows without having to be asked.

###  **Aelin Galathynius performs in the rain!**

Lorcan finds her first when she lands in Perranth. Aelin is jetlagged from crossing the ocean twice, and her emotions have gone totally haywire. She’s too tired to fight as she watches the burly man march her way, tired and numb.

She’s expecting a verbal berating for leaving without giving a heads up, for not taking him with her. Instead, Lorcan just sweeps her into a bone-crushing hug, rests his head atop hers, and asks, “How is he?”

“Ignoring me,” Aelin admits. The defeat in her voice is heavy, embarrassingly so. She sighs, running her fingers through her hair and playing off the hurt. “You know, Rowan. He gets mean when he’s hurting, and then he pulls away to avoid saying anything shittier than what’s already been said.”

Lorcan raises a dark eyebrow. “What did he say to you?”

“Nothing that I didn’t deserve.” Aelin shrugs him off when it’s clear Lor is about to come to her defense. “I fucked it up—not that it wasn’t a group effort or anything. I can’t just waltz back into his life because I think he needs me.”

“He does, though—need you.”

Aelin’s mouth falls open in surprise. The rest of the bad—hell, even Aelin and Rowan—have always turned a blind eye on the _something_ that was Rowan and Aelin. This is the first time she thinks she’s ever heard Lorcan put it into words, as vague as the implication is.

“Don’t give me that look, Ace.” Lorcan looks unimpressed. He crosses his arms and frowns at her. He’ll make a good dad one day, Lorcan, Aelin thinks.

“You two idiots have spent years fucking around,” he complains, running his hands through the hair hanging around his face. Elide told him it looked better down, and now that’s the only way he’ll wear it.

Aelin avoids Lorcan’s eye. “Everyone knows that you two are better when the other is there. Make of that what you will.”

The drummer leaves before Aelin can get a word out in defense of herself. She wants to say something along the lines of “It’s not like that” or “We’re not even friends anymore,” but Aelin has had two years to sit on this. She’s long since come to terms with the fact that both of those excuses are just that—excuses.

###  **The Cadre takes to social media in remembrance of Lyria Whitethorn.**

The day of the funeral lands between shows. Aelin flies anyone who wants to go out to Doranelle via her private plane. When Essar asks if they’re going, Aelin says she isn’t but leaves it up to Essar whether she wants to go. She doesn’t, not knowing them that well.

It’s not Aelin’s place to show up and bring the media circus down upon a grieving family. Besides, Rowan made it clear that he wishes to be left alone to mourn the death of his wife by ignoring all of her calls.

Aelin knows that Lorcan wants to say something, wants to pick a fight over her remaining behind, but mercifully, he keeps his thoughts to himself. Instead, they work together to reach out to their remaining bandmates, Lysandra and Aedion, and her parents.

Just because the two of them are too far away to provide help, doesn’t mean they can’t send it via other means. Aelin can easily picture Rowan’s jaw twitching in silent frustration at the sight of her parents, two people there to help that Rowan could never deny. They’ve always filled the gaps in his life left behind by his own distant parents. With Evalin Galathynius on the scene, Aelin can breathe a little easier.

###  **The** _ **Fireheart Tour**_ **comes to Antica.**

The rest of Aelin’s time is split between performing shows and traveling to the next show. In the moments between, she dials secretive calls to Rowan, bordering on the edge of harassment. She’s worried.

He doesn’t answer, but she’s able to leave a voicemail each time, so he must be listening to them.

> _The tide is high It's sink or swim_
> 
> _My only rival is within_
> 
> _Giants calling round the bend_
> 
> _My only rival is within_

The last of her shows pass by dizzyingly fast. One second, she’s playing in Perranth after a dizzying round trip across the great sea, and the next, she’s finishing out her last show for Fireheart in Antica.

> _I won't let my demons win_
> 
> _My only rival is within_
> 
> _I will fight through thick and thin_
> 
> _My only rival is within_

Aelin has always liked the understated ballad she sings now. The recording studio tried to cut it, thought that the lyrics were too short, the music too bland. Aelin put it on the album anyway.

> _Kingdoms rise and kingdoms end_
> 
> _My only rival is within_
> 
> _This is where it all begins_
> 
> _My only rival is within_

She thinks the words are more accurate than she realized when she first wrote it. Aelin is always keen to place the blame for her troubles on someone else, to blame the results of her inaction on others, but the only one keeping her back is herself. The only one responsible for her sadness is herself. She’s to blame.

_The tide is high It's sink or swim_

_My only rival is within_

There’s only a handful left, a matter of days standing between her and her much-earned vacation. Aelin is ready for that off-year. It’s her favorite time, writing music and staying out of the limelight. Without an album, she’s not contractually obligated to promote anything. She’s very excited.

The music slows to a stop, and Aelin smiles as the applause grows. She loves these people.

Her Firehearts, she’s started calling them. Maybe that’s weird. Perhaps it’s a little egotistical to name her fan base. Her mother loves it, grinned from ear to ear when someone told her.

“Thank you, Antica, for a beautiful evening,” she tells the crowd as it starts to quiet. The cheers pick back up. “Thank you for giving us a fantastic last show. I love you, guys! See you again very soon!”

###  **Aelin Galathynius shares picture from last concert, thanks fans for an “awesome tour.”**

That night, Aelin goes out with the touring company. She doesn’t do it often, usually throwing a party for all of them somewhere more secure than the rowdy downtown area of Antica. It’s the last night of the tour; the Fireheart era has come to a close. 

It’s bittersweet.

Chaol broods the whole drive over, but Aelin ignores him. If it were up to him, she’d spend all of her time in a plastic bubble under lock and key. She’d go on morning walks and spend meals alone. But she’d be “safe.” Luckily, none of this is up to him.

Otherwise, she’d go mad. It’s when she is on her own that Aelin feels unsafe and starts to go a little crazy. Without company, her mind turns against her. Aelin doesn’t want to be this way, but she’s yet to figure out how to fight it, to deal with it. 

Maybe that’s why she keeps flirting with the broody bodyguard. She chooses to tell herself it’s because he’s adorable when he smiles.

“Aelin Galathynius!” Lorcan cheers from the bar as she enters. Elide sits beside him, battling a smile of her own. The energy in the bar is infectious. Aelin can feel it seeping into her bones, yanking her out of her melancholy thoughts.

What progress her puppy-dog eyed friend has made. A month or so ago, Elide would have left the bar the very moment that Lor claimed the seat beside her, wearing that shit-eating grin of his as he prepared for another battle of wills. Aelin wondered who would crack first.

“That’s right, bitches!” Aelin says, turning on the charm for the crew. She doesn’t want them to know how she’s really doing, doesn’t want to bring them down. “I have arrived!”

Laughter fills the room, and even Chaol’s lips tremble with a smile of his own. Aelin is feeling very accomplished right now. She nudges him with an elbow, and the smile breaks free.

Throughout the evening, Aelin works the room. She’s sure to speak with everyone, thanking each individual for all of their hard work. Of course, this isn’t the first time she’s done so, but Aelin is more than happy to do it again. She likes to spread the love.

Besides, without all of the people in this bar, Aelin wouldn’t be able to do what she does.

###  **The** _ **Fireheart**_ **tour comes to a close in Antica! See the recording!**

On the drive back to the hotel, Ress is the first to leave their group. Essar disappears shortly after, heading back to her room for some much-needed sleep. Chaol chooses to stay at her side. He could leave, this part of the hotel is secured for them, but he doesn’t.

Aelin’s heart races when they’re alone. She eyes him openly as they close the distance to her door, fingers brushing as they walk down the hall shoulder to shoulder.

He’s much more comfortable in her presence than he was all those months ago on her porch. Softer, too. The dim hallway lights accentuate his relaxed expression and posture. A long day dealing with Aelin has managed to chip away the last bit of his stern exterior.

Chaol is a man of routine; Aelin’s chaos always throws those kinds of people out of balance. She gives him credit for lasting as long as he has.

At her door, they pause, lingering. There’s no reason for it, no plans that need to be discussed, no conversation to finish. They’re just waiting.

“Bodyguard,” Aelin purrs, a suggestion sparkling in her eyes. Chaol clenches his jaw, prepared to fight with her; it’s his first instinct when she uses that voice, that nickname. “I’m about to do something very reckless, and I want you to know you have my complete permission to stop me.”

His guard only grows at the sight of the troublesome smile taking over Aelin’s face. She slips easily into that cool mask of bravado, convinces herself that she doesn’t really mind rejection. She doesn’t need a man’s approval to feel good about herself.

It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

When Aelin reaches for the placket of his button-up, Chaol tenses. It doesn’t matter what the occasion is, a red carpet affair or the pit of a concert stadium, the man in front of her is always dressed to impress. She tugs him close to her, craving the heat of another body against her own, but the feeling of his muscles tightening underneath her fingers makes her release him.

A tense pause. Aelin’s mind spirals. Fuck, she’s an idiot.

Aelin ducks her head in embarrassment and reaches for her door, thinking of running away and hiding for another year. Aelin does a lot of stupid shit; this is just another notch in her belt.

“Wait,” Chaol stops her, gently taking her by the elbow and spinning her back around to face him. Aelin’s skin burns with shame as she avoids his eye.

She gasps when he lifts her chin, copper eyes burning with some unspoken feeling. Aelin bites her lip at the heat that pools in her belly at that look, and Chaol tracks it, licking his own lips in anticipation.

It’s nothing more than a brush of lips at first; Aelin is quick to catch him by the collar before Chaol can pull away, tugging him back in for another kiss and earning a husky chuckle that makes her blood heat. She reaches behind her back for the door, turning it without letting go of him. Chaol guides her backward into the room.

His lips don’t leave her skin for the rest of the night.

###  **Aelin Galathynius wraps up another tour—what’s next for Doranelle’s home-grown star?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ps, The song is Rivals by Ruelle.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is—the bottom! it’s a long(er) one. NN is usually around 2500wds, and this guy is at about 4100. all of the warnings apply: angst, depression, discussions of suicide. let’s do this, shall we?

###  **The dog days of summer hit Doranelle!**

**Aelin’s** shades are big enough to cover her whole face as she traipses down the street one sunny, hot day in Wendlyn. If Aedion or Gavriel or, hell, her parents knew she was out alone right now, Aelin would be in a lot of trouble, but they never have to know if she doesn’t get caught, right?

Fuck. She’s definitely going to get caught. Chaol was many things, but bad at his job was not one of them. Aelin knows that she only managed to slip her way past him, thanks to the fact that he was passed out in her bed. Ress having the day was helpful too.

Aelin couldn’t remember the last time she went out on her own. So, she was going to be damn sure to make the most of it.

She was feeling rather sorry this morning. It was something that happened to her a lot following the close of some big event—a tour, a big performance, a party. The next day was always bleak, depressing. It was funny how the thing she craved most, a moment’s peace, could bring her down so.

Everyone on her team will be pissed when they realize she’s missing, but if Aelin wanted company, she would have responded to Lor or Lysandra. Hell, even Aedion texted her this morning, asking to see what she was up to and if he could tag along. They all missed her, and Aelin missed them. She just didn’t feel like company.

Instead, she snuck out of her bed and got dressed in the most low key outfit she could come up with. The pair of denim shorts and a white crop top that Aelin wears does little to fight off the Wendlyn sun bearing down on her, but it’s way more tolerable like this. Aelin can get a bit hot dressed underneath all of her signature black looks.

Her hair certainly doesn’t help either. The blonde strands have grown longer than they’ve been in years; the faded purple tips reach the bottom of her ribcage when let loose now. Aelin is definitely due for a haircut.

An idea springs into her head at the thought, and Aelin adjusts her path across town. If she remembers correctly, there is a salon nearby. One that comes highly recommended by the other socialites in Doranelle. Lysandra talks about it all of the time, a favorite haunt of hers for a self-care day. And a self-care day is precisely what Aelin needs right about now.

The bell rings loudly overhead as Aelin slips into the brightly lit, air-conditioned room. Fuck, that feels nice. It’s hot as hell this summer. When a kind-eyed woman greets her at the receptionist’s desk, Aelin considers if it’s possible to get her hair done without removing her shades. It isn’t, so with a sigh, she reveals herself.

“Oh!” The woman recognizes her right away, but Aelin holds one finger over her lips to try and stop her from panicking. Hopefully, everyone will act cool. Totally natural. The woman recovers and asks, “Can I help you with something, Miss—ma’am?”

Aelin grins. “I don’t suppose you accept walk-in’s, do you?”

A place this nice probably doesn’t, which would suck, but Aelin’s not opposed to going home and taking matters into her own hands with the first pair of scissors she gets her hands on. However, it appears she’s in luck.

The woman nods, “Absolutely. One second.”

###  **The art of the beauty makeover.**

A text comes in as Aelin’s reflection stares back at her in a mirror hanging in the lobby. She considers ignoring it, knows exactly what it’s going to say, but she’s a glutton for punishment, unlocking the phone before she can change her mind.

 **I stopped by your place to discuss your flight plans _,_** Essar says. **Where are you?**

Aelin groans. She forgot all about Essar.

 **The judgy BG is now alert to your absence.** Aelin watches the eclipses continue. **My bad. You know you’re supposed to tell me when you’re being sneaky, so I can cover for you.**

Aelin chokes on a laugh. Essar always has her back.

**Also. Why is he here? OMG. Did you—**

The clicking of heels announces another woman’s approach; Aelin looks up and away from her phone without finishing the text. White-blonde hair and golden eyes take in her appearance with disinterest, and Aelin tries not to fidget under her close gaze.

The woman’s smile is nothing but a sharp twist of the lips. She gestures towards the back with long, pointed nails. They’re painted a metallic silver; Aelin thinks they’re pretty fucking rad. Maybe she’ll get her nails done next.

“This way…” The woman raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Celaena,” Aelin replies. It’s become something of her alias; although, it’s probably far too unique to be a proper alias. She only had Drunk Aelin—who needed to order a cab with far too much whiskey in her system—to thank for that.

“Celaena,” the woman echoes, tasting the name before guiding Aelin towards the back. The woman’s eyes twinkle with delight at the game they’re playing; it’s no secret who Aelin really is. She’s not exactly hard to identify.

She follows the hairdresser towards the back, out of the way from anyone else. Perfect. Flopping into the chair, Aelin tries not to feel any embarrassment at her appearance. She really does look awful, with frizzy hair peeking out from underneath a hat and tired, weary eyes. Aelin isn’t one for makeup unless there’s a cause for it, and then sometimes not even then. 

“I’m Manon,” the woman informs her, motioning for Aelin to take off her stolen baseball cap and reveal her hair. Aelin cringes as the locks topple free, but Manon simply gets to work, running her fingers through it idly before meeting the singer’s eye in the mirror. 

“It’s a disaster,” Aelin apologizes profusely. “I’m a total hair abuser.”

Manon clucks her tongue.“I’ve seen worse.”

“So,” Aelin mumbles, speaking to fill the weird quiet. “I want to chop it all off. Like, all of it. I’ve never had short hair before.”

The hairdresser nods, playing with Aelin’s hair still. Without someone to stop her, Aelin keeps talking.

“I was thinking about coloring it, too,” Aelin admits aloud. “I couldn’t decide on a color, though, so I think I might just skip it—unless you have an idea?”

Manon’s eyes shine with delight as she meets Aelin’s eye in the mirror. Her grin is a little terrifying. “Red—like blood.”

For a moment, Aelin can only manage to blink in surprise. Then she breaks into her infamous cackle, tossing her head back in the air and grinning. “Shit, yeah. Let’s do that.”

###  **The Blackbeak Salon: the go-to for Doranelle’s elite.**

Aelin sits at the bar for a long time, staring into the glass of whiskey sitting before her as if it’s some puzzle piece that has yet to show her the answers. She already knows, of course. The answer is that the whiskey is a piece that doesn’t fit, extraneous and destructive.

The more Aelin tries to force it into place, into somewhere it doesn’t belong, the more she damages all of the other pieces in her puzzle—until nothing fits together anymore.

Her phone beeps for the thousandth time. Essar is starting to get worried; Aelin imagines her entire team is freaking out by this point. Still, she can’t bring herself to respond, to tell them where to find her. Once they do, everything will go back to normal, and Aelin will no longer get to pretend to _be normal_.

 **Ace, we’re kind of freaking out here.** The message reads, the light blinding in the dim lights of the bar she’s in. **Just text something to let us know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.**

She sighs, spinning the whiskey glass on the counter. All of the amber liquid remains in the glass as Aelin considers her next move. 

“You going to drink it?” The bartender interrupts her thinking, the question falling softly from his lips.“Or would you like some water instead?”

Aelin looks up at the man inquisitively. He’s recognized her, of course; she knew it as soon as she took her seat at his bar. Yet, the kind-eyed man must also know her reputation, her faults, as she sits there, based upon the concern that shines in his eyes. “I’m good.”

The man tilts his head. “Can I call someone for you?”

She grimaces, wondering how often this man tries to save substance abusers from themselves. “I’m not sure they would come.”

The confession lays heavily between them, Aelin and a stranger. There are some people, of course, that would come running the second she sent the address. Logically, she knows this, and yet, Aelin knows that if she asked this bartender to call the one person she wanted to talk to, he probably wouldn’t answer.

Is this what her life has turned into? She thinks of Rowan’s angry and hateful face as he closed the door on her—twice. He still hasn’t answered any of her texts. Aelin deserves it.

With a sigh, Aelin shoots back the whiskey, savoring the burn as it travels down her throat and clicking her tongue against her teeth. The bartender frowns, but Aelin only slides off the barstool and flashes him her award-winning smile. “I’m going to go sign up for a spot, I think.”

The open mic advertisement is what drew Aelin into the bar in the first place. Old memories of rambunctious musicians trying to make a break into a cruel and unforgiving world drew her in. Aelin can remember her open mic days, recalling with crystal clarity that first performance with Rowan, as he tested her worth. She wonders if he finds her to be a disappointment now.

The girl running the lineup realizes who Aelin is right away. She offers Aelin the next spot, offering to bump the next musician, but Aelin refuses, asking for the next available slot under the pretense of needing time to prepare. 

It’s a lie, of course. Aelin just closed out a global tour; she’s in the best fucking shape of her life right now—musically and physically. Still, the thought of using her status to push someone else aside, someone who probably needs the exposure more than she does, feels wrong. So, she waits.

###  **Open Mic night at the _Sea Dragon Pub._**

When her name is called, a quiet confusion falls over the bar. Aelin shuffles her way onto the stage with zero grace or confidence. Suddenly very self-conscious of the white, cropped shirt and denim shorts she wears, she has to fight the instinct to cross her arms over herself in protection. It’s been a very long time since anyone’s seen Aelin Galathynius dressed so plainly.

Maybe that’s why no one’s bothered her this evening, Aelin thinks as she takes the stage. No one could recognize her in this getup. 

“Um, hello,” Aelin greets the crowd.“I’m Aelin.”

She runs her fingers through her short, burgundy hair. Aelin reconsiders her earlier assumptions about her outfit; the crowd definitely doesn’t recognize her without her signature long, blonde hair.

Someone gasps. 

“I know, I know. It’s the clothes, right?” she jokes in the direction of the fan who’s figured out her identity. Aelin grins, tugging at the hem of her shorts. Her ass has to be hanging out right now. Shit. “I expect this very… inspirational look to be on the cover of every magazine tomorrow. And don’t even get me started on the hair.”

That earns Aelin some chuckles. It’s enough to get her moving more confidently.

“Right, so I’m going to play a little something that a friend of mine wrote,” Aelin starts to speak, recognizing immediately that she’s slipping right back into her babbling persona. Nothing more than a trained puppet. “Hopefully, I don’t butcher it, or he’ll never talk to me again.”

She swallows the lump of emotions in her throat as the crowd laughs. Then she takes a seat at the keyboard resting on the stage. It probably belongs to someone; Aelin hopes that they don’t take offense to her borrowing it. She did not come prepared.

Aelin clears her throat once and presses the keys, one long press of the keys after another.

> _I fell by the wayside like everyone else  
>  I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself  
> Our every moment, I start to replace_

As she enters the chorus, Aelin makes a note to tease Rowan endlessly for the fact that he’s written his very own breakup song. After all of the shit he’s given her throughout the years, she seriously regrets missing out on the opportunity to tease him during the awards show. She’d been too upset by the lyrics, by how closely they struck home, to do so then.

As she plays, Aelin finds herself very thankful for those late hours she sat up practicing the song. She’d intended to play it as a part of her set on tour, as one of the interchangeable songs they use to mix things up, but at the last second, she chickened out, too afraid to know what Rowan thought of Aelin playing his music on one of her tours. 

Especially a song that is so clearly about them—Rowan and Aelin.

> _Our every moment, I start to replay  
>  But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face_

She wonders how they let it get here; when did they start trading notes through songs, skidding lyrics under doors? There was a time when Rowan would answer Aelin’s call at any hour. A time when Rowan could show up uninvited at her apartment and there was no burly security to turn him away.

Was this just growing apart, or was it something else?

Aelin knows the answer to that already. They pushed each other away. This wasn’t the natural growing apart that comes from lives going in different directions. They shoved each other out and locked the doors behind them.

> _So, before you go_   
>  _Was there something I could’ve said to make it all stop hurting?_   
>  _It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless_   
>  _So, before you go_

Her breath is haggard as the music fades, and Aelin can feel that her smile is unsteady when she looks up towards the crowd. People clap, and cellphone cameras flash as onlookers take pictures. 

“Thanks, guys.” Aelin clears her throat. She feels like crying suddenly, and shit, wouldn’t that be embarrassing. She needs to change focus before she royally fucks up.“Next round is on me, eh?”

###  **Aelin Galathynius debuts a new look at surprise open mic performance!**

Drinks served, Aelin returns to her seat at the bar, and asks for another whiskey from the disapproving bartender. He helps her as she dials Lysandra. It takes a couple of rings, but as expected, Aedion answers instead of the woman that Aelin was hoping for. 

“Where the fuck are you?” he hisses into the phone, his anger palpable over the line. It’s nothing more than a cover for fear, like how Aelin’s mom screamed at them the time they went out driving in a storm and wrecked the car.

“Addy?” she croaks, feeling worse as the alcohol settles in her blood. Aelin will need to slip out soon. The internet keeps nothing a secret. “Addy, I’m such a fuck up.”

Her sniffle is embarrassing, but Aelin holds true to her words. “How did I let everything get so bad?”

“Ae, you’re not a fuck up,” her cousin’s voice is crushingly soft. “None of this shit is your fault.”

Tears appear at the corners of her eyes, and Aelin works tirelessly to wipe them away. Aedion sighs deeply, his voice static through the connection. 

“We’re worried about you, cousin. Tell me where you’re at, and I’ll come pick you up,” he says. 

“I’m at a bar,” she tells him, scrunching her nose as she tries to figure out where in Doranelle she’s at. “On the other side of the river.”

“Gods,” Aedion swears. “You walked all the way over there?”

Aelin shrugs before remembering that he can’t see her. “I didn’t have anything better to do, so I walked my old running route. Addy, I’mm very drunk. I think I’m going to come home now.”

“Just stay where you’re at,” Aedion orders softly. “I can be there in twenty minutes. Just don’t leave the bar, Ae.”

“Can’t,” she sighs. “People are starting to recognize me. I gotta get out of here.”

“Aelin—” 

She hangs up the phone before her cousin can argue further. Aelin is perfectly capable of getting home on her own dammit.

###  **See Aelin Galathynius’s cover performance of _Before You Go._**

Aelin finds the night air to be surprisingly cool when she exits the bar and heads off. The day was so hot, but that’s what happened when on lived under the shadows a mountain range, Aelin supposed. She’s definitely regretting her outfit choice now, and the back of her neck feels naked without her mountain of hair to keep it warm. 

As she reaches the top of the bridge, the moonlight on the water catches Aelin’s eye. It’s really beautiful out there. Spending months on end away from home has really helped Aelin to better appreciate the beauty of the concrete jungle she calls home. She can’t remember the last time she looked at the water and thought it was anything more than an inconvenience.

Aelin leans against the rail for a while, but her legs are tired, so she decides to hop up and take a seat. She and Aedion used to sit here for hours, chatting about their days and talking shit about their teachers. Aelin needs to spend more time with her cousin.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been there when someone speaks, bringing her back to her senses. It’s a voice she’d recognize anywhere. 

“Aelin!” Rowan shouts, but she doesn’t look his way, keeping her eyes trained on the water instead. His footsteps are hurried as he rushes for her.

“Sometimes, I think about jumping,” Aelin begins casually. Rowan stops dead in his tracks. She doesn’t have the courage yet to look at him.

“Do you want to?” he asks at last. “Jump?”

“Kind of,” she admits, but the words sound like a question to even her ears. Aelin shrugs before explaining herself. “Not, like, to fucking kill myself, or some shit, but just—because I could. I could totally jump off of this bridge, and I’d die, but still, my brain says, ‘Jump.’”

A sharp intake of breath is Rowan’s answer. Aelin supposes it’s better than the alternative—an apology or begging her to get down or some shit. “Don’t you ever have fucked up thoughts like that? Like, I could push this person in front of a train right now? Or, I could totally burn this house down if I want to?”

His snorts, clearly trying not to do so. The sound draws her eyes to him, an unwilling, shaky smile taking over her face. Aelin always loved making Rowan laugh against his will. He tells her, “You always were a fucking pyro, Ace.”

“Blame my mom for calling me Fireheart,” she says with a breath of a laugh. It’s a hard noise given the circumstance, and they fall into silence.

She kicks her feet against the railing, thinking aloud. “Am I the only one? Who has those thoughts? Is that just my fucked up head getting the better of me again?”

“Nah.” Rowan leans against the rail beside her, looking to the water. It’s always easier to spill secrets without eye contact. “I was driving on that bridge over there a week ago,” he points towards another bridge across the river for emphasis, “and the thought passed through my head that I could just drive off of it. Just like that my problems would be solved.”

The words cause Aelin to still; she chances a sideways glance at him, trying to read Rowan’s expression without making him shy, chasing him away. “Clearly, you reconsidered.”

“Clearly,” Rowan huffs a bitter laugh. “What good would it do me?” He runs a hand across his face. “Also, I kind of like being alive.” A tentative pause. “Do you, Aelin?”

She shrugs, taking a second to think it over. Aelin doesn’t actively want to end her life, but these days she doesn’t much see the point to living it. It’s kind of like being on autopilot. Who cares what happens to her? Not Aelin.

The delay clearly worries Rowan. He speaks cautiously, “Do you want to die?”

Aelin thinks harder on it. “No—It’d make Fleetfoot sad.”

Rowan laughs softly, a bittersweet sound. “It’d make a lot of people sad, Aelin.”

She turns to look at him; logically, she knows this, and yet, Aelin can’t bring herself to _believe_ it. In the quiet, Rowan speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper, “A lot of people.”

Aelin nods her head. She’s afraid if she speaks that all of the tears will escape from where they’ve lodged themselves in her throat.

“Aelin, I—“ his voice cracks with emotion. Rowan runs his fingers through his messy hair; it’s grown out considerably since the last time Aelin saw him. It’s been a chaotic few months for everyone really. Not just Aelin.

He looks her dead in the eye. “I don’t know how to help you, Aelin. I don’t know how to make you love yourself or make you want to live. Hell, I can barely get my own ass out of bed most days lately, but I do—because Thea needs me. She needs her dad.”

“I’m not asking you to take care of me, Rowan,” she tells him. The defeat in her voice is blatant. Aelin’s nearly checked out. “I’m not asking anyone to. What’s the point?”

Rowan notices, anger flaring in those pine green eyes of his. He leans forward, determined to keep her attention. “Don’t you fucking give up like that, Aelin Galathynius. If you can’t fight for yourself, yet, fight for someone else—anything else—until you can. Do you hear me?”

He waits. When Aelin doesn’t answer, he growls. “Do you fucking hear me?”

Tears prick her eyes. She wipes them away furiously. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” Rowan lets out a heavy breath. “Now get off that fucking rail. You’re making me nervous.”

Aelin laughs despite the heavy conversation they’ve just had. Rowan sends her a stern glare, and she flashes him an amused smile.

“You’re such a fucking mother hen,” she teases, spinning around on the rail. Rowan tenses at her precarious movements. “Addy and I used to do this all of the time in high school. It’s totally—”

Aelin’s foot slips. She yelps in surprise, flailing in an attempt to remain on her perch. Rowan’s eyes go wide in horror; swearing, he lunges for her, grabbing the first part of her that he can reach and yanking her over the railing by it. The force of his grip hurts her forearm and her knee hits the rail hard, but the alternative—tumbling over the edge into the river below—would hurt way worse.

“Fucking Hellas, Aelin,” Rowan swears as he pulls her towards him into a bear hug. She goes willingly into his arms, shaking from the close call. “I’m already going fucking gray—I don’t need it to get any worse.”

Maybe it’s the culmination of a really great day gone sour, maybe it’s just the after effects of their conversation, or maybe it’s just Aelin, but the second Rowan’s arms lock around her, his face pressing into the crown of her head, a sob wracks Aelin’s body, surfacing from deep within the numb void of her heart.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Rowan coos. “I’ve got you, Ace.”

She sobs into his chest, clinging to him like he’s her only lifeline. Rowan holds on just as tightly.

Aelin tries to form words, but she can’t over the bubble of emotions escaping her all at once. Rowan shushes her, petting her short-cut hair and whispering comforting nonsense to her.

“Fucking thank the gods!” Aelin hears her cousin swear. She wonders when he got there, but the sound of a car locking gives her an answer.

Rowan says something in response and keys jingle as they change hands. Aelin doesn’t let go of Rowan as he guides her away from that fucking bridge, allowing him to pick her up when her legs give out and carry her into a vehicle. She’s safe now; she has Rowan with her.

He holds her in his lap the whole way home.

###  **Aelin Galathynius: crumbling under the pressure of fame?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah! so that happened. oh, the cover i used for writing aelin’s open mic performance is now added to the spotify list. i had to keep it a secret from my detectives out there. it’s by bailey rushlow.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been kind of bleh that last week or so... I think I caught a case of that "pandemic brain" everyone's been talking about. Anyway! Here's our next chapter.

##  **Is Aelin Friends With Rowan Again?**

When she was little, Aelin used to lay her in mother’s lap for hours, dozing happily while her mother played with her hair. Aelin’s earliest memories are of just that and listening as Evalin Galathynius sung softly under her breath, revealing her own beautiful singing voice. It’s a talent she passed on to her daughter, but Little did Evalin know how far Aelin would run with, how Aelin would use it and her fierceness to conquer the world.

When Aelin opens her eyes this time, though, it’s not her mother watching her as she strokes her hair, making Aelin feel safe and loved. It’s Rowan. His green eyes are ravaged, the color of the irises stark against the red in them. Dark circles lie underneath them, reminding Aelin that she isn’t the only one having a tough time lately. Rowan is too.

It takes her a few blinks to pull herself out of the fog of sleep. Aelin is more than a little convinced that she might still be dreaming, but then she remembers the events of yesterday, and her close call with the rivers of Doranelle. It’s not a dream, Aelin recalls, guilt striking her through the gut.

“Hey,” Rowan’s voice is gentle but hoarse. Aelin’s heart twists at the worry she finds in his tone; Rowan isn’t supposed to be worried about _her;_ he has enough shit of his own to deal with right now, without adding her crap into it.

“I’m sorry,” are her first words to him. She’s barely able to form them because of her dry, scratchy throat. Aelin cried a lot on the ride home, afterward too.

Rowan’s forehead wrinkles. “What for?”

“Everything.” Aelin sighs. There aren’t enough hours in the day to cover all of her sins, but most of all, she’s sorry for what happened between them. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

He knows her well enough to understand what she means by her words. Rowan sighs deeply and adjusts their position on the couch to make them more comfortable. They’re back at the townhouse, hear head leaning against his solid chest.

She doesn’t know where everyone else is. Chaol, Essar. Even Aedion is absent, and Aelin was certain he’d be hovering around here somewhere.

Aelin snuggles closer to his warmth. There’ll be time to apologize to everyone else later, is what she tells herself. Thanks to Rowan.

He speaks as her eyes grow heavy again, pulling her back down into the depths of sleep. “I’m sorry, too, Aelin,” he says to her. “So fucking sorry.”

##  **How To Get Aelin Galathynius’s new look.**

As promised, Rhoe and Evalin arrive in the city first thing the next morning with Fleetfoot in tow from a weekend in the countryside. The puppy positively freaks out at the sight of her mother, running towards her and going wild. 

Aelin can’t help bursting into tears at the sight of her dog. It brings back the memory of her conversation with Rowan the night before, how she didn’t want to die and make Fleetfoot sad. Her dog wouldn’t understand why she didn’t come home, would never know what happened. It’s enough to make her tears fall faster.

The look in Rowan’s eyes tells Aelin that he remembers the conversation as well. They hold one another’s gaze quietly from opposite sides of the room, but soon her father calls for Rowan, breaking their focus. Aelin returns her attention to Fleetfoot, flushing with embarrassment despite her best efforts not to do so.

“How are you doing, Fireheart?” Her mother asks, taking a seat on the couch and watching her daughter wrestle with her dog. Those Ashryver eyes watch her closely. “You worried us yesterday, disappearing like that.”

Rowan admitted to Aelin that he spoke with her parents about what happened, that he called them. Her initial response to the reveal was anger and betrayal, but Rowan looked guilty as hell about revealing all of her secrets. In the back of her mind, Aelin knew he was doing it to help her and to keep her safe; so, she couldn’t bring herself to blame him for it.

Aelin would do the same for him. Always.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” Aelin shrugs, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of her mother’s watchful eyes. There’s only one person that knows her better than her mother. “I needed a break from all of this.”

Evalin’s face is soft with worry. Aelin avoids looking at her for fear of crying more; she thinks it shouldn’t be possible to have any more tears after last night. She has to be all cried out by now.

“You know,” her mother starts softly. “You can always talk to me, Aelin. About anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” she agrees. “It’s just… hard.”

“Have you thought about taking a year off?” Her mother continues, but Aelin knows Evalin didn’t miss what Aelin said. Her mother will probably save it to return to later. 

“You’ve been at this for years without barely stopping for a break, and taking an off-year to write doesn’t count,” she adds sternly, sensing Aelin’s imminent protests. “The band went on hiatus, and you jumped into a solo career. You could use some time for yourself.”

“I’ll think about it,” Aelin says with a sigh. She gives her mother a look, a quiet way of asking to drop the conversation. Aelin isn’t ready for her mother to ask any more questions; she isn’t prepared to answer them yet.

“I think I’m going to go take a shower,” she decides. Aelin is absolutely running away. “I smell like I spent the night in a gross bar.”

Evalin laughs, and her eyes sparkle with familiar mischief as she says, “You look it, too.”

“ _Rude_ ,” Aelin gasps at her mother, holding a hand to her heart in offense, but both women are laughing as Aelin gets off the floor and heads for the bathroom.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn Spotted At Recording Studio!**

Fleetfoot is waiting patiently for her mom when Aelin steps out of her bathroom. She smiles at the dog, ruffling the soft fur on the top of her head and tugging her velvet ears.

“Wanna help me pick out some pajamas?” Aelin asks her dog. Fleetfoot’s eyes light up at the prospect of getting to help some, tail thumping happily against the floor. Aelin thinks she’s the best impulse decision she’s ever made.

Dressed, the sound of an argument leads Aelin towards the kitchen rather than hunger. Fleetfoot leads the way, the sound of a conflict driving the dog in that direction in a hurry. She’s always the first to try and mediate, pressing herself between two people arguing or lying across someone upset.

“Everything okay in here?” Aelin asks, following Fleetfoot’s lead.

The men in the room are quiet, all three of them glaring back and forth. Rowan’s jaw is clenched tightly, teeth grinding, and her father refuses to look at her. Aedion gives Rowan an odd look, but he remains silent.

“You know, usually when I let people hang out in my very expensive kitchen,” Aelin drawls, flopping into a stool at the kitchen island. “It’s under the pretense that they’re making me something to eat.”

The three men break their stare off to react to her. Aedion rolls his eyes at his cousin, while Rowan fights a fond smile. Her father groans at her, the sound of long-suffering.

“Like you have any food in here,” Rowan accuses, and Aedion snorts loudly.

Aelin lights up at the challenge. “I’ll have you know, I have people for that now.”

“To grocery shop for you?” He asks, feigning outrage. It’s a perfectly normal thing for someone of her celebrity status to pay for delivered groceries. Aelin can barely stand on her front porch without getting mauled.

“Not just groceries,” Aedion adds, mockery in his tone. “She has a whole team of people. Stylist, nutritionist, personal chef—“

“I’m still trying to convince Emrys to take that job,” Aelin sighs dreamily. “I could have cake _all the time_.”

“You’ve always had a chocolate problem,” her father adds, eyes fond. “I used to catch you sneaking candy from the kitchen when you were little.”

Aelin smiles. This is nice, even if they are all pretending that she didn’t just walk in on them arguing about her. What else would they be discussing? Why else did they go quiet at the sight of her? She’s gotten pretty good at predicting when people are talking about her. It’s a celebrity skill she didn’t know she needed.

She’s just about to begin the interrogation when Fleetfoot drops a ball at Rhoe’s feet. The toy bounces loudly in the lull in the conversation, and her father laughs at the sight, bending over to grab the toy and tugging on one of Fleetfoot’s ears.

“That’s my cue,” he says, leaving the room smoothly. Aelin snorts. So that’s where she gets it from. Instead, she turns her steely gaze on the two remaining men in front of her. Aedion raises his eyebrows in a challenge, but Rowan’s expression is torn, eyes darting to the clock.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, tone genuinely sorry. “I left Thea with Lys last night, and she’s got to be ready for a break by now. I know it seems like I’m fleeing the scene, but I—“

“Go,” Aelin tells him without heat. She spares him an evil grin. “I’ll be sure to give you hell the next time I see you.”

Rowan’s smile is genuine, rare. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“So, you two are still idiots,” Aedion observes after Rowan leaves. Aelin raises a brow in question, but her cousin just ignores her. “Good to know.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Aelin snarls, a little harder than necessary, perhaps. She’s feeling a little touchy still.

To his credit, Aedion doesn’t flinch. “Nothing, Ace. Don’t worry about it.”

##  **Who Wrote These Popular Songs—Not Who You Think!**

“He’s the one, huh?” Chaol asks in the quiet of the evening. He’s come up to keep her company, their usual habit, but without the kissing and touching. It’s at least a little disappointing.

Aelin huffs from her spot splayed across the couch. She was quick to recognize what his purpose here was. Chaol was babysitting. She wondered who set him to the task; was it her parents or Aedion? Or, Rowan?

“Am I that obvious?” she asks, sparing a glance his way.

Chaol thinks too hard before answering. Aelin takes it as a bad sign. “Yeah.”

“So, is this the part where you break up with me?” Aelin asks, nose wrinkled like she’s smelled something.

She flips channels on the television, unready and unwilling to look him in the eye for his answer. She’ll miss the sex is her first thought; the next is that she’ll miss his company, assuming he’ll probably quit.

He tilts his head in response. “Are we together in a capacity where we could break up?”

Aelin chokes on a laugh, snorting through her nose. “If you’re asking, I’d say it’s probably a no.”

Chaol smiles at her, copper eyes sparkling with amusement. She pretends not to notice at first, but when he doesn’t stop, Aelin can’t help shooting him a look. His grin doesn’t falter.

“Have you thought about telling him?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, right?” Aelin blurts, filterless. “I am so not having this conversation with you.”

“Oh c‘mon,” Chaol pushes. “We’re friends. And this friend would like to point out that that man went out in the middle of the night to find you—“

“We’re fuckbuddies, you and I. Not friends,” Aelin cuts him off. She spews the words at him harsher than necessary, nothing more than an attempt to put the walls back up between them. “And Rowan doesn’t feel like that about me, and I don’t feel that way for _him_ either.”

Chaol gives in easy, and Aelin fumes on the couch, ignoring him and the way the words taste like ash in her mouth. After some time passes, Aelin retreats to her bedroom for the evening. She doesn’t even consider inviting Chaol to come with her, too stubborn to be the first to give in.

##  **Will The Cadre Get Back Together? See The Rumors.**

“So,” Aedion starts the next morning in place of a hello.

Aelin scowls at him from over her coffee cup, feeling the serious conversation brewing between them. Her cousin arrived at dawn with coffee and pastries. She recognized it for what it was. A fair attempt at softening her up for whatever talk he had planned.

Aedion continues, pretending to be oblivious to her suspicions. “I’ve kept something from you, and I think now’s the time to fess up.”

Aelin’s frown deepens. “You got Lysandra pregnant, didn’t you?”

“What?” Aedion turns white before flushing bright red. “N-no! Why? Did she—”

“So, it’s not a baby,” Aelin cuts off her flustered cousin, fighting back a grin. “Then what’s got you so serious this morning?”

The man standing in her kitchen glares at her. Aelin thinks he could at least make them some more coffee while being a brat, no point in just standing there and doing nothing. She’s almost finished with the giant cup he brought her.

“I have PTSD,” is what Aedion says, flat and straight to the point.

Aelin’s heart goes still. She knows her cousin well, and she knows that Ashryver mind. Whatever reaction she has right now, it’s important to him. It matters.

“Fuck,” is what she settles with. Aedion cracks a smile at that. “That’s— _shit_.”

“Anyway,” Aedion continues, struggling to keep eye contact with his cousin. “Lysandra all but ordered me to go talk to someone. It nearly broke us up because I was being such a stubborn asshole. I kept insisting that I was fine, but when I saw what I was doing to her, I—”

He pauses, eyes going elsewhere. Then he clears his throat. “It made me get my shit together, and do something about it.”

Aelin attempts to tame the shocked look on her face; she knows she has to be gaping at him like a fish. She can't believe that two of the most influential people in her life have been keeping this from her. How long has it been since Aedion returned from the frontlines? _Years._

“It’s one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself,” Aedion admits with a sigh. “Or rather, that Lys did for me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s, like, I’m not perfect or anything, but I’m better than I was—a lot better.”

“You went to therapy,” Aelin echoes. Her brain works overtime to process the news. She is surprised, but she’s also angry. Aelin hits Aedion, nothing more than a quick jab to the arm. “You went to therapy! You weren’t okay, and you didn’t tell me!”

Logically, Aelin knows how that makes her a hypocrite, but she’s furious with him anyway. She and her cousin have always shared everything; if he wasn’t okay, Aedion should have told her. She could have helped him.

“Why are you such a fucking brat all the time, Ae!” Aedion exclaims, catching her fist when she aims for another attack. “I’m trying to connect with you here. I know the parents have been trying to get you to go see that whack job in the city.”

Aelin glares at him. It’s true, of course. Her parents mean well, but Aelin’s never liked the family doctor. It’s not incredibly motivating to go see him.

“Yrene Towers,” Aedion says, sliding a business card her way.

“Someone came prepared,” Aelin observes, picking the card up and turning it around in her fingers, back and forth. “Wait, isn’t she—?”

“Yeah,” Aedion flashes her an uncertain look like he’s worried how she’ll react. “She’s the doctor we called for you those years back. She’s not terrible, though, despite being the Havilliard’s doctor.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Dor isn’t terrible, Addy. He’s one of my best friends.”

“Whatever,” Aedion says, shrugging. 

He’s still not a fan of Dorian even after all these years. Aelin can’t blame him for it, though. Aedion’s return to Doranelle and retirement from the Wendlyn’s Armed Forces would be forever marked by the stunt she pulled while partying with Dorian all those years ago.

“Anyway,” Aedion sighs, looking at her with vulnerable, kind eyes. “I know there’s no making you do anything that you don’t want to, but I wanted to, I don’t know, offer an olive branch or some shit.”

Aelin snorts. “Eloquent, cousin.”

“Hey, we can’t all be award-winning writers,” Aedion growls. The indignant look on his face makes her giggle even with the heavy topic at hand.

“Thanks, Addy,” she tells him softly once she’s done. “I love you.”

Aedion's face turns warm and gentle. “Love you, too, Ae. Love you, too.”

##  **What Will Aelin Galathynius Do For Her Birthday This Year?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you want updates on my writing or if you have questions about the work, I'm much more active on Tumblr. I also share snippets of upcoming chapters from time to time on that platform, especially if my updates have a long time between them. <3
> 
> noodlecatposts.tumblr.com


	29. Chapter 29

##  **See How The Stars of Doranelle Spend Their Summers.**

Aelin abandons the business card on her kitchen counter and carries on her with her days. She’s not ready to deal with what it represents, and she’s too proud to admit that she’s scared, also. It’s a problem she’ll face later.

Of course, it certainly doesn’t help that Aelin’s never been good at asking for help when she needs it; her struggle now should come as no surprise to anyone. It must not escape her family and friends, though, and her small army of people grows closer than ever. Aelin wants to be annoyed at them all for hovering, but she had to admit she kind of likes having them all around.

Essar checks on her even more than usual, and her mother decides to arrange a family vacation to Terrasen under the pretense that the mountains make a pleasant getaway during the hot weather. While that is true, Aelin sees right through her mother's machinations anyway.

Rowan is an unexpected, but not unwelcome, addition to her circle. He begins to reappear here and there in her life, clearly taking advantage of the door that’s been left open for him. Aelin is simultaneously thrilled and terrified about having him around again, afraid of dredging back up the past, but she doesn’t want to let him go again either.

In the end, she’s happy to have him back regardless. Aelin wishes things could go back to how they were before, back when they weren’t in the music industry, and Aelin wasn’t a household name, but she knows they can’t do that. This is how things are now.

##  **The Net Worth of Galathynius Industries.**

Aedion‘s door is ajar when Aelin arrives at his apartment. Before entering, she peers around the hallway, looking for a sign of something being askew. Ress is right behind her, his own eyes scanning the area.

In light of this development, her security takes the lead, and Ress opens the door and leads the way inside. Aelin ghosts behind him, planning the long and intense lecture she’s going to give her cousin about _the importance of safety._ It’s something she may have heard from him a time or two before.

Then they hear the crying.

“It’s okay,” Aedion coos. “Everything’s a-okay.”

Aelin follows his voice to the kitchen. Her cousin paces the room holding a child against his chest. The little girl cries softly, her face red and puffy, and tears stream down her face. She’s mere seconds away from snarking about Aedion having a secret baby with Lysandra when the little girl meets her eye. Aelin would know those green eyes anywhere.

“Shit,” Aelin breathes before she can think better of it. Her cousin turns at the sound of her voice, and he sends an unimpressed look her way.

“Nice,” he says deadpan. “You see a baby, and that’s your first instinct?”

“Actually, my first thought was to run for it,” she quips. Ress laughs softly, making Aelin’s smile grow. “So, the cursing would be my second instinct.”

Aedion rolls his eyes at her. The tilt of his mouth tells Aelin that her cousin is about to say something smart, but Thea beats him to it, coughing once and throwing up on Aedion’s shirt.

There’s a long second where no one moves. Then Thea sniffles again; Aedion snaps back into action, approaching Aelin and passing the small toddler to her before Aelin even has time to protest the decision. It doesn’t seem wise to leave her in charge of a child.

“Aedion,” Aelin calls after him, a little panicked, but the man flees the room, likely to clean himself up. Ress smiles wryly from the doorway, backing away and sneaking back into the hall. He’s not required to stay in the room with her. In fact, he’ll likely wait for her in the car. The coward.

Thea begins to fuss. Her eyes are stark from crying, and Aelin’s mind scrambles to figure out how to console her and hold her at the same time. She’s way bigger up close.

“Uh, it’s okay, kiddo,” Aelin says, taking a seat on the couch. It seems safer that way, more comfortable, too. “I’ve been trying to get him to throw out that ugly fu— shirt for years.”

“I heard that!” Aedion growls from the back of the apartment.

The indignance in his voice makes Aelin laugh. The sound seems to soothe Thea, and Aelin smiles at her shyly only to find Rowan’s green eyes peering back up at her in curiosity. Yet, there are no new tears.

Aelin wiggles her eyebrows at the kid, and Thea breaks into a sweet, happy giggle. Shit, Aelin thinks, she’s cute.

“Feel better now?” She asks. Thea gives her a toothy smile. “Yeah, ruining Aedion’s day always makes me feel better, too.”

Thea giggles again, smiling around the fingers in her mouth. Fuck. She’s adorable _._

“Um,” Aelin’s mind scrambles to figure out what to do. She decides to introduce herself. “I’m Aelin. What’s your name?”

Thea peers at her with uncertainty from her spot on the couch. “Thea,” she says, mispronouncing the _th-sound._

Victory, Aelin thinks. She meets a lot of kids at her tours, but they’re usually older. Toddlers aren’t great at a concert. “It’s nice to meet you, Thea. Wanna tell me what made you sad?”

Thea’s eyes are wide as saucers. Combined with her light brown hair, she looks like her mother. Aelin’s heart falls at the memory of Lyria. Even though they weren’t on the best of terms, Aelin would never wish to see someone go so suddenly, leave a child behind. It was fucked.

The little girl shrugs.

“You don’t know why you were upset?” Aelin prods. “Was it because your tummy hurt?”

Thea nods, but she doesn’t seem inclined to talk anymore. Fair enough. Aelin is a stranger to her.

“Sometimes, my tummy hurts, too,” Aelin tells the little girl. She isn’t sure what else to say. “Usually, because I eat too much candy.” Aelin raises a brow at the little girl, playing suspicious. “Did you eat too much candy?”

That earns a laugh. “Nooo.”

“Are you sure?” Aelin grins, feeling successful at making Thea laugh. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“You wouldn’t be conspiring with my daughter, would you, Ace?”

Aelin jolts at the sound of Rowan’s deep voice. Surprised, she looks towards him, finding Rowan standing at the doorway to the room. Amusement lights up his face as he takes both of them in; it makes Aelin’s cheeks grow warm, caught red-handed.

“Daddy!” Thea cries at the sight of him, bouncing off of the couch and charging for him. Someone is feeling better now that she’s thrown up all over Aedion.

Her friend laughs happily, catching his daughter and tossing her in the air. To think, Aelin thought the little girl was too big to carry. Aedion and Rowan carry her around like a newborn.

“You know me well then.” Aelin decides, propping her feet on the table and watching the duo reunite.

Rowan flashes her a smile that makes her stomach flip. He looks dressed for a boardroom in a pair of dark, pressed slacks and a button-up—no tie for a rockstar. Aelin is curious about what kind of meeting drove him to get Rowan all dressed up. He never wore anything nicer than jeans for their press tour stuff.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised in the least. You Ashryvers are nothing but trouble,” he says. “I caught Thea and your mother having ice cream for dinner once.”

Aelin chokes on a laugh. “That’s so unfair. Why’d my mom wait to get cool after I grew up?”

“Uh,” Rowan pretends to look thoughtful. “Something about not having grandkids of her own and needing to spoil someone else’s.”

Aedion walks into the room at that moment, dressed in a fresh shirt. He holds his hands up in surrender. “Don’t look at me. Thea already leaves me wrecked. I can’t imagine doing that full time.”

The men look towards Aelin. Her eyes bug out, and she shakes her head in refusal. “Oh, no. Uh uh. Don’t look at me. I can barely take care of myself most days. Fleetfoot does all parenting in our house.”

The men burst into laughter. Rowan rolls his eyes at her. The gesture telling her, _Of course, the dog would take care of you._

“Me! Me!” Thea volunteers, clapping her hands happily. Rowan’s face morphs into horror, making the cousins laugh heartily at his expense.

“You aren’t even allowed to date until your 40,” Rowan grumbles.

The fondness in his eyes makes Aelin’s heart squeeze. She can’t believe it took her until now to properly meet Rowan’s daughter. Her life got so far away from her. The thought makes her inexplicably sad. It was her fault in the first place that she missed out on so much; it was Aelin who made the decision to push Rowan away. It was her call.

As if sensing the change in her mood, Rowan glances her way and meets her gaze. Aelin forces a smile, shoving the melancholy away before it can overcome here. Now's not the time for sadness. When was the last time she and Rowan were in the same room without a crisis?

“You know,” her voice is teasing as she speaks. Rowan bristles, prepared for the smart comment coming his way. “My father used to tell me something very similar. It only made me more determined to sneak around.”

“Hush your mouth,” Rowan tells her. His eyes say what he really wants to yell at her. _Shut the fuck up_. It makes Aelin cackle.

Someone comes in the front door, and Lysandra appears beside Rowan a moment later, looking beautiful and fresh despite the blistering heat outside. Aelin really kind of hates her sometimes.

“What on earth is going on in here—Oh! Kitten!”

If Aelin thought the toddler was excited to see her father, Thea is ecstatic when she recognizes Lysandra. Rowan’s daughter squeals with delight, wriggling free of his grasp and reaching for Lys. The brunette greets the child with just as much enthusiasm. Because of their coloring, the pair could almost be mistaken for mother and daughter.

“You’re totally next,” Aelin taunts to Aedion.

Yet, her cousin doesn’t repeat his adverse reaction this time. Aedion’s smile is downright starry-eyed as he watches his girlfriend with Thea. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, Aelin’s heart squeezes at the sight, but she has to admit, she’s also a little jealous.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn: the man behind the curtain.**

In the end, Lysandra orders everyone to stay for dinner. Aelin finds that incredibly funny, considering how Lys does none of the cooking in the household. It all falls to Aedion. Rowan assists because he doesn’t know how not to, and Aelin watches Lysandra and Thea.

Not even Rowan can separate them for more than a few moments. The little girl transforms with Lysandra, babbling about nothing in particular, but the woman indulges her for the whole evening. Her smile doesn’t fade.

Aelin is totally jealous; although, she isn’t sure what exactly she is more jealous of, that Thea talks happily with Lys or that Lysandra’s undivided attention belongs to Thea and Thea alone.

“Don’t worry,” Rowan says, nudging Aelin softly with his elbow. She jumps; Aelin doesn’t know when he snuck up on her. “She’ll warm up to you in time, and then you won’t be able to get her to leave you alone.”

She watches as Thea and Lysandra pose for a selfie. The next round, they make fish faces; the little girl can barely keep from giggling long enough to sit for the picture. Aedion is quick to join in.

Aelin smiles at Rowan. “I’d like that.”

##  **Who are Evalin and Rhoe Galathynius?**

Unsurprisingly, Rowan and Thea make their exit at the same time as Aelin. She immediately offers them a ride home, but her old friend just shoots her an incredulous look, like she should know better than that.

“I can walk us home faster than you’ll get there in traffic,” Rowan argues, holding Thea’s hand as they take the elevator downstairs.

Aelin scoffs. She’s about to toss her hair over her shoulder, but she just manages to remember it’s not long enough for that anymore. She doesn’t think Rowan notices.

“Probably,” she says. “But my method comes with air conditioning and fantastic company.” Aelin gestures to herself with her words; it earns her another eye roll. Yet, Rowan’s lips twitch, fighting off a smile. She still counts it as a victory.

They see the rain as they reach the lobby. It comes down in sheets, blurring the glass of the pristine front doors. Gusts of wind turn the rain sideways, defying gravity. Rowan groans in frustration, and Thea’s eyes go wide at the sight.

Aelin grins like the devil. “And you’ll stay dry,” she sing-songs, adding to her earlier argument about giving them a ride.

Rowan glares at her. “You did this on purpose.”

“I can’t control the rain, Buzzard; I’m not a god,” she tells him, but Aelin can’t help shooting him a wink. “Although, I appreciate the compliment.”

“So, you’re still impossible,” he grumbles, adjusting Thea’s raincoat to make sure she’s safe. Her face disappears underneath her hood.

Aelin zips of her leather jacket in preparation for braving the rain. Her coat is hoodless, and Rowan notices right away. She takes in the disapproving expression on his face and laughs.

“Style over practicality, Ro. It’s the only way to live.”

“I disagree with that on so many levels,” he groans, but his expression softens as Thea giggles at her father, recognizing his teasing. Aelin’s smile grows.

“It kind of looks like the rain is slowing down,” she tells the pair. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

Rowan nods, leading his daughter by the hand. Thea hesitates at the door; it’s clear she’s not keen on getting wet. Aelin pushes open the door, flashing the little girl a smile and holding the door open for them.

“C’mon! Wanna play in the rain?” she asks. Thea narrows her eyes at Aelin in such a manner that it gives the woman whiplash. Oh yeah. That’s Rowan’s kid.

“You’re a horrible influence,” Rowan accuses, but he’s smiling.

Aelin laughs again. “Someone’s gotta teach this kid to have some fun.” She leans down to Thea’s level. “We just have to make a run for that black car over there,” she says, pointing towards her black sedan. Ress having returned to get her. “You ready?”

Thea’s calculating eyes scan the journey ahead. Aelin raises a brow at Rowan, who shrugs. They only have to cross the road, but there’s no way they’re making it out of this unscathed.

The good news is that around here, no one is looking for Aelin Galathynius. They’re all waiting for her at the apartment she snuck out of. She’s about as incognito as it gets for Aelin.

The rain has lightened some, a brief reprieve, so they head for the crosswalk as a group. As they reach the edge of the sidewalk, Thea holds her hand out to Aelin. Surprised, she looks towards Rowan for an explanation.

He looks both sheepish and fond. “You have to hold hands when crossing the road.”

“Hands!” Thea insists, hand still in the air. Obeying the command, Aelin takes the small hand offered to her; she thinks that her heart might just burst at any moment.

##  **Aedion Ashryver and Lysandra Ennar—settling down?**

Together, the three of them cross the road and head for the car. Ress meets them, having returned from his break when called. He holds the door open for them, and Rowan lifts Thea into the vehicle, Aelin sliding in behind them.

“Ms. Galathynius,” the driver greets as Ress slides into the passenger seat. His eyes light with surprise at the sight of Rowan and Thea. “Where to?”

Aelin looks to Rowan, waiting for him to answer. The address he lists off surprises Aelin; it’s not very far from her old place, a matter of blocks. It’s also not his old apartment; he’s moved.

The thought must show on her face because Rowan shrugs at her and says, “It's a nice neighborhood. Good schools.”

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear from your mouth,” she jokes, feeling a little sad about the old apartment. Rowan flashes her a smile before reaching for Thea and lifting her onto his lap. Right, Aelin thinks. She doesn’t keep a car seat in her vehicles.

The car pulls away from the curb as they fall into silence. As Rowan predicted, traffic crawls through the city. Aelin struggles not to giggle at the man, finding him just as impatient in traffic as she remembers him to be. Thea snuggles with her father, content for the time being. Rowan warns her that it won’t last.

##  **Adarlan Records Music Tycoon: Dorian Havilliard Sr.**

“So,” Aelin starts the next conversation boldly. She’s been meaning to ask for a while now, and now seems as good a time as any. “What were you and my dad arguing about? With Aedion?”

Rowan stills. A smile spreads across Aelin’s face; she told him she wasn’t going to let the conversation slide. Her father told her not to worry about it, which meant she definitely needed to worry about it. Aedion, on the other hand, admitted it was about her, but he also insisted he had nothing to do with it.

“That bad, huh?” she says when he remains silent. It makes her nervous.

“Uh.” Rowan coughs to clear his throat. Thea mimics him, making both of the adults laugh regardless of the conversation. “I may have taken out my frustration on Rhoe. I was out of line; I owe him an apology.”

His answer only piques her interest. “What were you upset about?”

Based upon his expression, Rowan was hoping that she’d leave the interrogation at that. Aelin only smiles; he knows how stubborn she is. Besides, they both know that the topic of the argument was her. She waits as he thinks hard; Aelin knows how sometimes it takes him a minute to find the right words.

“I was mad about how—”

Thea interrupts the conversation, growing agitated with their prolonged trip. She starts to wiggle out of Rowan’s lap, whining at being held still. He looks to Aelin in apology, but she just shrugs. She’s not going to take it personally.

Mercifully, they arrive at Rowan’s apartment before all hell can break loose. Aelin is immediately sorry to see them go; she’s not ready to say goodbye yet. It’s been such a good if an unexpected day.

Rowan hesitates, too. Aelin decides to believe it’s because he wants to stay and not because of the torrential downpour occurring outside the vehicle. Ress moves to get the door for him, but Rowan stops him quickly. That never was Rowan’s style. He’d rather get the door himself.

Still, he hesitates, one hand on the door and the other on Thea. Aelin finds herself timid. It’s so weird to her; she can’t remember ever being nervous around Rowan. They used to be so comfortable with each other. She’d like to get that back.

“Thea is hanging out with her grandparents tomorrow,” Rowan says. Aelin knows that Rowan means Lyria’s parents. Because Rowan’s are gone now. “Would you like to get lunch? You can continue your interrogation if you’d like.”

Aelin beams. “Only because you keep dodging my questions, Buzzard.”

“I’ll see you then,” he says, rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling too. It’s weird, getting to know your favorite person all over again.

Aelin can’t wait.

##  **SPOTTED: Aelin Galathynius returns home, takes selfies with fans in the rain.**

**-**


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we at chapter thirty??? this is crazy. as always, thank you all so much for reading! here’s the next installment. it’s about double the usual length. enjoy! :)

##  **Wendlyn Music Festival: who will be there and who won’t.**

A sigh of relief escapes Aelin as she opens her front door and takes in the sight of Lysandra standing on the other side, armed with coffee and a sly, knowing smile. The blonde doesn’t wait for her friend to come inside; instead, Aelin takes off back inside the townhome, swinging the door open wide and leaving Lys behind.

“You know it’s hot as fuck outside, right?” The model calls after Aelin in outrage. “Don’t leave your door open like some kind of animal.”

Aelin ignores her chastisement, digging through the racks of clothing inside her massive walk-in closet. She flings clothes from their rightful places into piles, hopeless and desperate.

“You took long enough!” She scolds the brunette. Aelin called her friend over an hour ago; Lysandra told her she’d be right over. The home she shares with Aedion home is right around the corner. Someone clearly got distracted.

“I got coffee,” Lysandra defends, rounding the corner and leaning against the doorframe. Her green eyes turn saucer-wide at the sight of the chaos in Aelin’s room; piles of clothes cover every available surface. “You’ve been busy this morning. Are you really so worried about what to wear to your meeting today?”

Aelin ducks her head to hide the flush claiming her cheeks. It’s true that she’s worried about her meeting today; it’s with some of the big wigs of the recording studio, and it’s supposed to be about the plans for what would be her next album. However, Aelin is thinking about telling them her plans to take a hiatus, but that’s not what she’s anxious about.

“Um, kind of,” she lies through her teeth. If Lysandra learns about Aelin’s lunch plans with Rowan, she’ll piece two and two together. Her best friend can always see right through her; Aelin will never live down the teasing. “It’s a big deal.”

The supermodel narrows her eyes at Aelin, but without the right facts, Lys isn’t able to figure out why Aelin is acting so weird. Fingers crossed that she doesn’t make sense of it all.

“Well?” Aelin asks, faking her confidence. “Are you going to just stand there and let the coffee get cold? Or are you going to help me?”

Lysandra’s face lights up at the prospect of styling Aelin. If there’s one thing Lysandra loves more than nosing around in people’s business, it’s dressing people up.

##  **Lysandra Ennar caught sneaking into Aelin Galathynius’s Uptown Townhome.**

Aelin is in the process of figuring out how to fit her boobs into a ruffled crop top when her phone chimes from somewhere amongst the rubble. Lysandra likes this shirt, says it's cute and playful while still telling people she means business, but Aelin doesn’t think having her girls fall out in front of a bunch of powerful men will help her prove much of anything.

SHe doesn’t even think twice as Lysandra starts to dig through the clothes for the cellphone; Aelin doesn’t realize the mistake she’s made until the model gasps dramatically at whatever message she’s found waiting for Aelin.

“ **Buzzard: How does Emrys’s sound?** _”_ Lysandra reads off the text, delight in every word. “Aelin _Fucking_ Galathynius, are you going out with Rowan today? I didn’t even know you two were on speaking terms again.”

Aelin flushes crimson, too embarrassed to look at her friend. Shit, she did not think that through at all. Instead, she fails to respond, yanking the top off of her body; there’s no way in hell she can pull that look off. Not without a major, tabloid-worthy fashion mishap occurring. Yet, Aelin would really like to keep her boobs off any magazine covers for now.

Lysandra’s wicked mind pieces everything together while Aelin tries on the next option. It’s a simple navy blue sundress; Aelin barely lets it settle around her hips before taking it off. It’s hard to be a woman, dressed like a woman, vying for any sort of power or respect. A cute sundress will get her called honey or miss all day.

“So, _that’s why_ you begged me to come help you with your outfit. You didn’t want to look “fierce” for your stuffy old meeting. You want to look cute for Rowan. Wow. I—that makes way more sense.”

Giving up, the singer ducks into an oversized t-shirt. It’s far too big for her, ghosting her thighs; it almost looks like a dress. Aelin sighs; when in doubt, she can always fall back on her old favorites, resort back to her grungy band days.

She glares at Lys. “I asked you to come over and spend time with me.”

“Nope, I believe your exact words were: _I don’t know what to wear. Come save me._ ” Lysandra says around her smile.

“I don’t like you anymore,” Aelin declares, eyeing herself in the mirror. “You can leave now. I’m going to get a new friend.”

The model just laughs happily. The sparkle in her eye promises trouble, probably some cruel remark about Rowan being her new friend, but Chaol interrupts before Lysandra can get the words out.

Her faithful friend, bristles. “Dude, you ever heard of knocking?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Chaol jokes flatly in that way of his, and Lysandra’s eyes snap to Aelin in surprise. The blonde shrugs at her friend; it’s not untrue. She just hasn’t gotten around to sharing her sex life lately; there’s been a lot going on.

“You’re going to be late,” he warns her, eyes taking in Aelin’s half-dressed state with amusement. Aelin tries to keep her face from warming under his attention.

Instead, she rolls her eyes. “We’ve been over this, Westfall. Rockstars are _always_ late.”

Those copper eyes of his light up and Aelin knows he’s got his own witty remark prepared. “Yeah, but usually it’s because of paparazzi and fans, not because they’re still not wearing pants fifteen minutes before they’re supposed to be somewhere.”

“It’s called a t-shirt dress,” she says, curtseying how she was taught back in her cotillion days. How her mother ever got her to participate in that fiasco was beyond everyone. At least, it made her mother happy.

Aelin gestures at herself and looks to Lysandra. “What do you say? Do you think I could pull it off?”

The model looks her over with her sharp gaze. “Make sure your underwear is cute.” Lysandra winks. “If you wear any at all.”

Chaol chokes on air, and the women burst into laughter at his discomfort. Aelin checks out her reflection in the full-length mirror; the shirt does skate dangerously high on her thighs, but she thinks it covers everything necessary. Aelin’s definitely worn more perilous outfits in her lifetime.

“I should probably put on some shorts,” Aelin laments. “For my father’s sake.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius dons oversized t-shirt as a dress?**

“So,” Chaol asks quietly as they leave the recording studio. “How’d it go?”

Aelin grits her teeth into a smile, flashing it towards a passerby as they reach the side exit she uses to get in and out of the building. No more front doors for Aelin Galathynius, not unless absolutely necessary—or on purpose. It makes it harder for the tabloids to snag pictures of her. It was why she is currently shopping for another home, one with a private entrance.

“Uh,” Aelin starts, thinking over the right words. She’d shared her plans with Chaol, of course, during one of their evenings loitering about her house in various states of undress. It wasn’t until the drive over that Aelin scrounged up the courage to decide to do it, to ask about the break. She wanted to know what they said, see if she could even get away with such a request.

No one was more surprised than her manager and uncle, Gavin. In retrospect, she felt a little bad for him, but at the same time, Aelin was a bit frustrated with him, too. If anyone was aware of how hard she’s worked these past years, it would be her uncle.

“They reminded me that my contract says I’m obligated to release a new album every other year for six years. Three albums in total,” she tells her security detail sweetly, too sweetly. No one in this building is really listening to what she’s saying anyway; as long as she sounds bright and happy, no one will pay closer attention to her.

It was a double-edged sword for sure, but it suited her for now.

Chaol does the math quickly. “This next one would be your third album.”

Neither of them dares to voice what that means. Aelin will not be getting her year off; she has some work to do, and a few phone calls to make.

##  **Is Aelin Galathynius already working on her next album?**

All of her negative thoughts and feelings wash away as the black SUV pulls up to the curb of Emrys’s restaurant. All the bullshit that the music industry has to offer can just fuck off for the next hour or so; Aelin is having lunch with Rowan.

It’s kind of the perfect place for a private lunch. Or, as close to perfect as it gets for Aelin. Thanks to its location on the bottom floor of the multi-story building it resides within, the restaurant sits beneath the street level. That means no windows for lurking photographers; although, Aelin would love to see Malakai chase a few of those assholes off. He’s a scary man when warranted.

Unsurprisingly, she’s late for lunch, too. Aelin can only hope that Rowan knows her well enough still to expect her infinite tardiness. She keeps thinking that one day she’ll grow up and be an adult, be on time for things, but Aelin’s just lying to herself. Aelin was late to her very own birth; she’ll likely be late to her own funeral, too.

Inside, Rowan spots her immediately. She supposes it’s kind of hard not to do so, with how Aelin and her menacing security detail storm the small dining area. They make quite the entrance when they go places. Aelin flashes him an uncertain smile before taking a seat across from him. Chaol and Ress slink off to a nearby table.

Her life is a mirage of privacy. There’s always someone there with her, listening or watching. Aelin doesn’t remember the last time she got to do something alone, excluding her adventure to the hair salon.

“The glamorous life of a pop star,” her lunch date teases, voice deadpan. To anyone else, Rowan would sound annoyed, but Aelin hears the dry humor she likes so much. She’s missed it—him.

Sadly, the next words out of her mouth aren’t equally as teasing. It turns out she hasn’t quite managed to shake her anger at Adarlan Records, yet. She growls, “Remind me why Adarlan Records was our pick for a studio?”

Rowan doesn’t miss a beat; although, his eyes do shine with concern. He knows Havilliard Sr. well. “Because they were our only pick, and we really, really wanted to make money playing music.”

“We were stupid,” Aelin huffs, tugging off her sunglasses and tucking them away inside her bag.

“Do you…” he trails off, brow furrowed as he considers his next words. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

She scowls but not at him. “Not particularly.”

“Oh, okay.” He gives her one earnest nod and leaves it at that, but Aelin recognizes the disappointment in his posture, adding, “Later, I think. I’m trying not to be a total buzzkill every time I see you.”

He flashes her a weak smile in response, but they’re interrupted before they can get any further. Emrys smiles at the two of them, finding sitting at a table together in his restaurant once more. “I thought I was dreaming for a second there. What’s the occasion?”

Aelin beams at Rowan. She’s not the only one who missed this; it would seem. Pine green eyes smile back at her, and her stomach flips as Rowan responds to the owner by saying, “Making up for lost time.”

##  **Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius Spotted At Lunch.**

The food is just as good as Aelin remembers. The conversation is easy if a little awkward, but the pair fall into comfortable quiet as Malakai and Emrys spoil them with all of their favorites. Aelin accepts everything happily, but as she picks on the rich food, she becomes guilty, settling for her salad for most of the meal. It’s fucking delicious anyway, which is nice.

Rowan raises a brow at her when Aelin declines the cake, but wisely, the man makes no comment about it. There’s a long road of eating meticulously in her future if she’s going to have to release another album next year. A pop star is always expected to look a certain way, and the pressure only gets higher during an album season. All of the photoshoots and interviews she’ll have to do, Aelin will want to be in shape for that.

It’s pretty much her least favorite part about being famous.

As they finish their meals, Aelin eyes him critically, deciding on her method of interrogation. Rowan senses her train of thought quickly. He sets down his drink and sighs. “Is it that time already?”

Aelin just smiles. “What pissed you off so badly that you yelled at my dad? You guys always get along, and I couldn’t even get Aedion to spill the beans. And he’s _always_ ready to gossip with me. That tells me it was serious.”

A soft snort from Rowan. He clears his throat once, uncomfortable, and Aelin notices the tightness in his expression. It makes her nervous. “That bad, huh?”

“Kind of,” he admits. His words are soft and low, trying to avoid the prying ears around them. Even without the paparazzi, he and Aelin can tell that the other restaurant patrons are watching them closely. Even Chaol sits stiffly; Aelin can practically see him straining his ears to hear what they’re talking about.

Rowan runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but,” he sighs before meeting her eye, “you look like shit Aelin.”

She sits back in her chair, struck by his words even if Rowan doesn’t mean to be cruel. “Um, _ow_.”

He chuckles, but the humor doesn’t meet his eyes. “Something’s been wrong with you for a while now, right? Since before the music awards last year.” Aelin’s cheeks burn as he looks her over carefully. “When was the last time you had a good night’s rest? Ate something?”

“Um,” she says, gesturing to the picked-at food in front of her. “What do you call this?”

The look on Rowan’s face tells her that Aelin is only helping prove his point. He crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. That dad-face of his appears, and Aelin prepares for a lecture. She can feel it as her hackles rise in defense.

“You barely touched your salad,” he says, eyes shining with a warning. “And you turned down _cake_.”

Aelin bristles. “So, what? I’m just not—”

“You’ve never not been hungry in your life,” he cuts her off. Aelin sighs, falling silent. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. She’s just watching what she eats is all. Everyone does it. It’s a thing.

“This is what I was upset about,” he says roughly. “Finding you on that bridge like that only set me off. You’re… Something is wrong, Aelin, and everyone’s just—I don’t know what the fuck they’ve been doing because I never would have let you get away with this for so long.”

Shame stains Aelin’s cheeks. She has to look away from Rowan because she can’t bear the feeling of him seeing right through her; Chaol’s copper eyes meet hers from across the room, checking to make sure she’s okay. The bodyguard is probably the only one who’s come close to pointing out her flaws, but even then, he’s walked a thin line between friend and employee.

Aelin wants to point out that she’s always had a good poker face, but at the same time, Rowan isn’t wrong. There is something wrong with her, and yet, no one has bothered to call her out on her shit. Not like Rowan is doing now.

“Sorry,” he apologizes softly when she doesn’t respond. “This isn’t the way I wanted to talk to you about this at all. I’m just worried about you, Aelin, and I’m pissed off that everyone around you seemingly hasn’t done anything about it. Not until it got so bad that I was yanking you off the side of a fucking bridge.”

“I wasn’t going to jump,” she defends, voice rising dangerously high. Someone is going to hear them if they keep this up. Rowan sighs at her; his eyes look so sad as she lowers her voice. “I—slipped.”

“You shouldn’t have been out there alone in the first place, Aelin,” Rowan tells her flatly. “You know that just as well as I do.”

Aelin nods, giving in too easily; she can’t seem to find her words right now. It’s apparent by how Rowan's jaw clenches that her quick surrender bothers Rowan most of all. She can’t seem to do anything right these days.

“So,” he says after another moment's silence. “If I haven’t totally pushed you away from me with my poorly executed intervention,” he continues bitterly, “would you like to take a walk down the boardwalk? I’ve got some more time before Thea’s grandparents drop her off, and I’d really like to not leave off on such a shitty note.”

An old favorite pastime of theirs, walking down the river path. Usually, the pair did this in the middle of the night, and sometimes, they’d stay out until the morning. Most of the time, copious amounts of alcohol or pot were involved in the activity, but every once in awhile, they’d head out to the river sober.

It was always one of Aelin’s favorite things to do. She can’t remember the last time she did so.

“Yeah,” she says at last. “Let’s get out of here.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius takes a walk with old bandmate, Rowan Whitethorn.**

“I don’t know how you do it, Ace,” Rowan exclaims under his breath as they walk down the boardwalk. The afternoon sun is bright and warm today, and plenty of Doranelle’s citizens are out to enjoy the sunny weather.

Including the paparazzi.

“Do what?” Aelin asks, glancing at him from behind her shades. She clutches a to-go cup of iced coffee, calculating the sugar intake she’s just sabotaged herself with. One step forward. Two steps back. She should have just eaten the cake.

“Deal with all this bullshit,” her walking partner hisses, throwing a hand out in the direction of the photographers that have found them. Or her. Aelin almost didn’t notice the nosey men clicking their cameras in their path, but Rowan did quickly, bristling like an angry alley cat at the sight of them.

“Ignoring them is helpful,” she tells him, smiling at the evil glare Rowan sends towards the photographers. One of the men pauses for a second made nervous by the lethal promise in Rowan’s eyes. “The more pissed off you get, the more they’ll crave your attention.”

“They should just leave you the fuck alone,” he growls quietly, wise enough not to give the reporters ammunition.

Aelin laughs, reaching for his arm and giving it a squeeze. In a moment, she’ll ruminate on this decision, fearing that it was a bad call, that it provides the onlookers the wrong impression. Aelin didn't think about what going out for a walk with Rowan would look like to the media. They’ll track every smile and touch, and recruit body linguists to pick apart their relationship. Fuck, this was a mistake.

“It’s like you’ve never been one of the cool kids before,” she teases, pushing aside the anxiety and elbowing him in the ribs lightly. Rowan shoots her a look. “C'mon. It comes with the job. I just ignore them—and most public outings.”

Rowan pauses mid-step. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that when I asked.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay; I did.”

“Why didn’t you remind me then?” Rowan asks worriedly. “We could’ve done something else, somewhere else.”

Aelin contemplates her answer, taking a long sip of her coffee as she does so. Their faces will totally be all over the celebrity gossip columns within hours. She’s trying not to let the worry about what they’ll say mess with her head.

“I can’t live my entire life in fear,” she tells her friend. Rowan continues to glare at the cameras. “Otherwise, my whole life would be sitting in pretty houses and playing music on stage. I’d never get to _live_.

“This does help, though,” Aelin continues, flashing him a smile. Rowan looks at her in surprise. Her smile turns wicked. “Having you around to make them all pee their pants, that is. It makes me look like the well-behaved one for a change. You wanna be in my security detail? I can find you a spot.”

Rowan looks startled at the offer. Then he breaks into laughter, free and happy. For a moment, Aelin can almost pretend that they were kids again, free from all the drama and bad memories. It’s nice. She’d like to do this more often.

“You? Well-behaved?” Rowan says around his smile. He makes a show of reaching out to test her temperature, the back of his hand against her forehead. Aelin is quick to shove him off. “Are you feeling okay, Ace?”

“Fuck you,” she growls, but the words hold no heat. It’s hard to be mad when Rowan smiles at her like that.

##  **An Inside Source Reports that Aelin Galathynius Met With Havilliard Sr. Today.**

The walk back to their parking spots is uneventful. Ress and Chaol follow after them, looking intimidating in their all-black ensembles. The photographers follow along as well, having nothing better to do with their day than stalk Aelin. Rowan works hard to ignore them, but based on the scowl on his face, Aelin thinks he isn’t very successful.

“Sorry,” she apologizes as the restaurant comes into view. “I know I’m a lot to deal with; spending time around me kind of sucks.”

Rowan’s head whips her way. “What? Not at all! I had a good time today; it just pisses me off that you have to deal with all of this.”

He waves over his shoulder in the direction of the cameras, and Aelin frowns. These men wouldn’t be bothering Rowan at all if it weren’t for her. What nonsense were these people going to come up with to stir up more drama?

“Hey.” He nudges her. “I like spending time with you.”

Aelin beams at him as he gets the door to her car for her. “Of course you did! I’m fucking awesome.”

Rowan has to bite his lip to fight off the smile threatening him because of her bravado. Aelin preens with pride. As he closes the door to her car, Rowan hesitates, ducking his head in an uncharacteristic show of shyness.

“Is it too forward if I ask what you’re doing this same time next week?” He meets her eye tentatively. Aelin feels a wave of disappointment hit her, and Rowan misreads her hesitation; she can tell he’s about to back peddle.

“Sorry. It’s about the only time I’m kid-free, and—“

“No, I don’t mind,” Aelin interrupts guiltily. “It’s just that I’m catching a flight tomorrow to Perranth.”

Rowan’s eyes ask the question for him.

“I’m meeting with a producer to work on some music,” she explains.

“Already?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“No rest for the wicked.” Aelin shrugs. She doesn’t want to get into a conversation about Adarlan refusing her request for a break. “Uh, I don’t know how long I’ll be out there, but when I get back, we’ll figure something out, yeah?”

That earns her a soft smile. “Yeah. See you soon.”

##  **Back in the Studio! Aelin Galathynius Shares Selfie From the Recording Booth.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kind of want Aelin to have a duet with another female artist. any recommendations on who that should be?


	31. Chapter 31

##  **Aelin Galathynius lands in Perranth.**

Perranth is beautiful this time of year. Hell, it’s beautiful all year. As the second-largest city in Terrasen, Aelin and her team prepare for the company that usualy follows her, photographers and fans alike; during her previous trips to the city, for one concert or press event or another, things have always turned into mayhem. So, they book everything under an alias and rent the most nondescript vehicles possible.

For her stay, Aelin rents an apartment for the month. She has a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time, and Aelin’s always enjoyed vacationing in Terrasen. She hates leaving Fleetfoot behind again, but flying the dog across the ocean wasn’t a feat Aelin wanted to take on.

Today she’s recording, one of her favorite things to do. The singer clears her throat in the recording booth before speaking into the microphone, voice filled with her typical arrogance. “Okay, I’d like to place a bet.”

“Here we go,” Essar complains cheekily, her voice coming through the mic. She sounds excited anyway. “What’s the bet?”

“I bet that I can lay this whole track in one shot,” Aelin declares confidently. “I’m just that fucking good.”

Nox Owen’s laughter fills her headphones. She can’t see the people in the other room, can’t see their faces, but she can hear their mutual amusement. Aelin holds her ground; she can totally nail this song in one take. She’s just that awesome.

“What’s the prize?” Nox asks, his voice warm with laughter.

This is her first time working alongside Nox, but Aelin finds that she’s enjoying herself. The man is deathly attractive, with dark hair and cunning gray eyes; she might enjoy looking at him a little more than warranted. Add in his excellent taste in music, and Aelin thinks she could enjoy her time here, create a great friendship.

“Um,” she thinks hard. “Drinks are on you.”

Nox laughs. “And if _you_ lose?”

“Drinks are on me?” she asks. Aelin figured that much was obvious.

“Nope.” Nox pops the p sound; she can hear the smile in his voice. “That other song we were looking at, you have to record it, too—as a duet.”

Aelin scrunches up her face. “With that new chick?”

It would be an understatement to say that Aelin didn’t want to share the spotlight with another artist, a potential pop diva. She’s always loved being the center of attention; as a child she always got into trouble for her quick temper with playmates. 

As much as she loved writing music for other artists, Aelin wasn’t too inclined to work alongside one. She liked it better when they went off on their own and performed her music; there’s no potential for being stuck doing press alongside some snobby performer.

Sam didn’t count, of course. He was easily the most humble human being that Aelin’s ever met. And then there was Rowan.

“Her name is Ansel, Ae,” Essar says fondly, pulling Aelin out of her thoughts. “You _know_ that.”

“I think these stakes are incongruent,” Aelin tells them, ignoring Essar and being difficult on purpose. “I just want someone to buy my drinks for me.”

Laughter.

“Are we on or not, Aelin?” Nox asks, starting the music for the song. Her pre-recorded intro plays, a sly attempt to lay on the pressure and make her chose.

> _Night, midnight_
> 
> _Lose my mind_
> 
> _Night, midnight_
> 
> _Lose my mind_

“Sure. Whatever,” Aelin says cockily. “I’ll totally win. It’s fine.”

She sucks in a breath and starts to sing. Aelin thinks that’s cheating, starting the music before she was prepared. He’s sly, Nox.

> _Oh god,_
> 
> _I'm clean out of air in my lungs_
> 
> _I_ _t's all gone_
> 
> _Played it so nonchalant_
> 
> _It's time we danced with the truth_
> 
> _Move along with the truth_

The song’s subject is pretty apparent to those who know her personal life. Dorian and her fling ended shortly after the beginning of her last tour. Dorian flew out to see her a few times, to party with her during and after concerts, but it quickly became clear to them that their sexual relationship was more a matter of convenience for Aelin. The cocky man was quickly becoming one of her best friends, but the sex… That didn’t mean anything to her.

> _Ooh (hey)_
> 
> _We're sleeping through all the days_
> 
> _I'm acting like I don't see_
> 
> _Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me_

And then things started happening with Chaol. Aelin wasn’t the type of girl to juggle more than one guy at once; Dorian was expecting the end when it came. That still didn’t make Aelin feel any better about using him.

> _But my hips have missed your hips_
> 
> _So let's get to know the kicks_
> 
> _Will you sway with me?_
> 
> _Go astray with me? (aha)_

It was weird for a little while, as it always is when Aelin dissolves one of her casual relationships. Lysandra likes to tease her endlessly for her innate ability to reel in a hopeless guy with her charm and then break their heart with her callousness. Aelin tries very hard not to let the teasing hurt her feelings.

> _King and Queen of the weekend_
> 
> _Ain't a pill that could touch our rush_
> 
> _But what will we do when we're sober?_

Aelin knows she’ll play this song for Dorian before it’s released. It may not be right away, and if she decides to scrape the track, then she’ll tuck it away in her vault and never tell him—no need to reopen old wounds.

> _Oh God, I'm closing my teeth_
> 
> _Around this liquor-wet lime_
> 
> _Night, lose my mind_
> 
> _I know you're feeling it too_
> 
> _Can we keep up with the ruse?_

Aelin can practically imagine Nox dancing in the other room as she sings, and she struggles not to laugh at the mental image. Drinks are on the line right now; she definitely can’t laugh. Else she’ll pay for her boastful words from moments ago.

> _Ah ah (hey)_
> 
> _B-bodies all through my house_
> 
> _I know this story by heart_
> 
> _Jack and Jill got fucked up and possessive_
> 
> _When they get dark_

Heading into the second chorus, Aelin starts to feel her throat grow tight with each note. She should have consumed more water today, especially before recording, but the coffee Chaol had just smelled so good—tasted even better. Her eyes begin to water as she fights the need to clear her throat.

This has been a really awesome take; Aelin is so close to winning—

Her voice breaks, a horrific screeching sound escapes her lips, and Aelin coughs to recover. The music goes out seconds later, and she curses a vehement string of words that would make her mother threaten to wash her adult child’s mouth out with soap.

Laughter washes over her through her headphones. Nox’s voice comes through, “I’m so fucking excited. I can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve got planned.”

“Hey! I said I could get this done in a single go, not _which_ go,” Aelin argues, feeling difficult. 

“You’re doing the duet,” Nox insists. “You lost, and besides, it’s going to be awesome. Ansel already booked her flight; she’ll land Friday.”

“Wow.” Aelin rounds the corner into the room. “You didn’t even give me the chance to say no, did you? You just made me feel as if I did. You’re almost as good as my mother.”

Aelin has to admit that she’s feeling the slightest bit cornered, even if she knows that Nox means well. He’s a creative genius, and she trusts him. “How did you know you’d be able to get me on board?”

“Because,” he says, grey eyes smiling at her. “I knew I’d be able to wear you down with time. This way just made things faster.”

“Cocky,” Aelin tells him. “But resourceful.”

Nox beams at her. He’s a peculiar man, but Aelin finds that she does really enjoy working alongside the producer. The man has a tendency to get really worked up when creating a new song, and that in turn always gets Aelin excited, and then the poor sound engineer is left trying her hardest to keep up with their mania.

The end result is proving to be rather fantastic. She just hopes that it’ll be the same way with Ansel.

##  **Nox Owens Shares Photo of Aelin Galathynius in the Studio!**

“So, hypothetically,” Chaol begins in the quiet of the night. They’re lounging in bed at the late hour, hovering between consciousness and sleep. The lights of Perranth make the bedroom glow in the darkness.

Aelin can’t resist interjecting her snark. “Oh, I do love a hypothetical.”

His fingers pinch the round curve of her ass in reaction; Aelin sucks in a breath and hits him lightly on the chest. Chaol chuckles, pressing a kiss to the corner of her jaw to soothe the hurt. He speaks into the skin of her neck, hands resuming their exploration of her body.

“Say you didn’t write a new album,” he continues. “Say you just ghosted the record company and took your time off, hid in the mountains? Hypothetically.”

Aelin sighs deeply, enjoying the feeling of him. His lips travel back up her neck towards her jaw and then her lips. She indulges him with a languorous kiss before answering. “ _Hypothetically_ , I’d be in breach of contract. _Hypothetically_ , Havilliard Sr. could—and most assuredly would—take legal action against me for not making him even more disgustingly rich.”

“Shit. That’s such bull,” Chaol tells her, and Aelin hums in agreement. “It’s not like you wouldn’t come back and write another album.”

“Exactly!” she half shouts in the dark. This is one of the points that Aelin made during the meeting, when they turned her down. “But there’s always this fear that if you step out of the limelight too long that you’ll lose popularity or whatever. That you won’t be able to make a comeback.

“I would totally kick ass in a comeback. Major ass.”

Chaol scrunches up his face in thought. Aelin thinks he’s cute like this, all soft and unguarded, thinking much too hard to solve her problems with his hair in his face. “But they let you take off as The Cadre—longer even. Your hiatus is indefinite.”

“Someone’s been doing their homework,” she coos, sliding on top of him to straddle his lap. “Careful, Westfall. It kind of looks like you care.”

Chaol rolls his eyes, ignoring her. “Why’d they let you guys take an infinite amount of time off but not let you have a year?”

Aelin kisses him hard. They’ve taken a long enough break, and she thinks it’s time for another round. Chaol groans into her mouth as her fingers brush against him, testing the waters.

“I’ve thought about that for a while now,” she tells him against his lips. Aelin isn’t even sure Chaol is hearing her as her fingers get to work. “It’s kind of fucked that I could have just walked away from it all a few years ago, and no one would have said anything about it. I’d be free to do whatever the fuck I wanted right now.”

They break apart long enough for Chaol to grab another condom. Aelin takes it from him, forgetting about their conversation and using their current activity as a distraction. Chaol doesn’t let her get away with hit. He cares.

“You could still be free, you know?” he says as Aelin slides the condom onto him. She smirks as he fights a groan to get the words out. “Just one more album and then get the fuck out.”

“That’s still another two years of my life.” She presses a kiss to his lips, trying to distract him from the conversation. Aelin gestures between them in example. Only a year ago, he hated her, judged her like a book for its cover. 

“A lot can happen in that amount of time.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius and Nox Owens Out on the Town.**

The phone ringing pulls Aelin from her slumber. Chaol grumbles beside her, burying his face under the pillows to protect his ears. Aelin isn’t sure if it’s early or late, but she is convinced she could murder whoever is waking her up.

“Whoever you are,” she growls into the phone, rolling over onto her back and throwing her arm over her eyes. The light in the room tells her it’s early. Too early. “Go away. I hate you.”

“Wow. That explains a lot,” Rowan’s voice is filled with amusement. “Maybe I’ll try back in a year or two.”

Aelin sits upright when she realizes who has called her. Her brain scrambles for what to say; she’s surprised to hear from him. It’s been a long time since he called.

“Shit,” he swears at her silence. “Too soon?”

Aelin chokes on a laugh, inexplicably emotional about hearing from him. “Nah, it’s good. My brain just isn’t functioning yet. I need coffee.”

“Same old Aelin.” The fondness in his voice is unmistakable. “Noisy Neighbors only ever got finished because of your coffee addiction.”

“And drugs,” she adds because it’s not untrue. Aelin flashes back unwillingly to that night in his apartment when they danced. She shakes off the memory quickly. “You never would have written that opening guitar riff sober.”

“That’s just rude,” he says, offended. “And completely true.”

Aelin laughs brighter. Chaol glares at her from under his pillow, totally ruffled and utterly sexy. She smooths his hair back from his face and gets out of bed to give him some peace. The man disappears back under the covers.

She flops onto the couch in her rented living room. The clock says it’s barely six in the morning, but in Doranelle, it's a decent hour, especially for Rowan, the early riser. Aelin curls under a throw blanket and sits there comfortably. 

Both of them stay on the phone despite having nothing to say, listening to each other breathing in the silence. It’s nice, really; there’s something oddly comforting about having Rowan on the phone with her. More so than the presence of the man in the other room, Aelin thinks guiltily.

She recognizes that she’s getting ahead of herself with this friendship. Aelin’s missed him dearly, unbearably so at times. It’s clear that Rowan’s felt much the same, but there’s a lot of water under this bridge. They have a lot to sort through before Aelin can comfortably say she has Rowan back in her life, in her corner, and even then, it’ll probably never be the same as it was before.

That’s not going to stop her from trying, though.

“How’s recording?” Rowan asks softly. He almost sounds like he’s on the verge of sleep himself, and Aelin’s heart twists with old phantom pain. She makes a noise of despair, and Rowan huffs a laugh. Aelin doesn’t even have to explain herself. He just knows her that well.

“That good, huh?”

“I got conned into a duet,” she says pettily. It was a fair bet, and Aelin totally lost on just terms. She’s still going to be a brat about it.

Rowan makes a surprised noise. “You love duets. Weren’t you always trying to get me to fucking sing with you?”

Aelin is just about to say, " _but that’s different"_ when she manages to stop herself. That’s not something she wants to unpack right now. They’re taking baby steps.

“Who’s it with?” he asks before she can complain to him. “Or is it top secret?”

“You know I’m shit at secrets,” she tells him, and Rowan laughs, making her smile spread across her whole face. Rowan’s laughter is precious and rare, but Aelin’s always found that she’s pretty good at getting it out of him. She’s just that funny.

“Well?”

“That up-and-comer Ansel Something,” she says pathetically. “Adarlan has a new prize pony, and I need to give her a boost to fame and money-making, basically.”

“You aren’t jealous, are you?” Rowan teases.

Aelin bristles, the defensiveness in her voice surprises even her. “I have nothing to be jealous about. I’m a fucking rock star.”

“Mm, I think it’s really more Pop Princess now,” he corrects in a matter-of-fact voice. Aelin just knows that his green eyes twinkle with mirth as he teases her; Rowan knows how much Aelin hates that title.

“You fucking take that back,” she hisses, and he laughs again, telling her he won’t take his words back. “I’m a fucking rock star, and you know it.”

They get into a spat for a while, bickering back and forth about whether or not she’s lost her rocker-status. Aelin is adamant that she hasn’t, and she’s pretty sure that Rowan agrees with her. He’s only arguing with her for the sake of arguing and because he likes to make her mad.

“You know, it’s been over three years since the Cadre played,” Rowan points out in his defense.

The amount of time that has passed shocks Aelin, and she does the math quickly in her head. Lyria was pregnant when Aelin’s first album dropped; Thea gets closer to three years old every day. “There’s no way it’s been that long.”

Rowan makes a noise of agreement. Then his voice turns teasing again. “All those youngsters listening to your music were still in diapers then. They probably have no idea that you can scream over a six-piece band.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aelin growls. “You’re making me feel so old.”

That earns a laugh. “You can’t be old. What the hell does that make me?”

“Ancient,” she teases. Rowan huffs the ghost of an unwanted laugh. She can always break him down.

“Da!” a small voice echoes through the phone, and Aelin recognizes it. Thea sounds much more confident at home without a stranger trying to start up a conversation with her. “Da!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Rowan greets his daughter. 

“Da?” Aelin asks teasingly, but her voice is sweet, unlike the banter they exchanged moments ago.

Rowan’s voice whispers something to her daughter before his attention returns to Aelin. “Yeah, she hasn’t quite mastered that second D yet. It counts.”

Thea yells for him again, and Aelin’s smile only grows. She wishes she were with them, and not curled up on her rental couch in another country. Aelin’s feeling a little homesick; she misses everyone. She misses her dog.

“Can we have pancakes?” The little girl says, sounding closer than before. Aelin imagines her climbing onto the couch with Rowan, begging her father for food. Doing the math, Aelin knows it’s nearly noon back home; it’s lunchtime.

So, she expects Rowan to say as much, not for him to say, “That sounds like a great idea, _mo chuisle_. Will you help me?”

Thea cheers, promising to help. Even Aelin laughs at the little girl, but she feels sad as she senses the conversation coming to an end.

“I guess, you need to go,” she says, stretching out on the couch like a cat. Aelin is thankful that Rowan can’t see her face as she pouts.

“Yeah, fatherhood calls.” He sighs. “Talk to you in a couple years.”

“Fuck you,” Aelin hisses, laughing despite herself. The last thing she hears as they hang up is Rowan’s rich baritone laugh and Thea giggling softly, following her dad’s lead.

##  **Who is Ansel Briarcliff?**


	32. Chapter 32

##  **Ansel Briarcliff Shares Photo from the Studio.**

The recording session with Nox and Ansel goes well, better than Aelin expected; perhaps, the fiery redhead isn’t as terrible as Aelin assumed her to be. The duet goes well, too, isn’t nearly as agonizing as Aelin anticipated. 

She’ll die before she ever admits any of this to Rowan, though.

After another week in Perranth, Aelin catches a flight home to Doranelle, ready to curl up in her bed and sleep for eternity. She’s so _tired_ ; her body feels worn, older than it should feel at this point in her life. Aelin needs a break; so does the rest of her team.

Her feet are only newly back on Wendlyn soil when Aelin’s mother announces that it’s time for a family vacation. Aelin tries to act excited for her mother, but inside, she’s horribly frustrated. She only just got back to the city; moreover, leaving so soon means that Aelin won’t be able to see Rowan. She’s missed him more than she’s ready to admit aloud.

At least Lysandra is along for the ride, even if Aelin has to share her best friend with her cousin. Evalin Galathynius took painstaking efforts to arrange this mountain vacation around all of the family’s hectic schedules. Turns out, the Ashryver-Galathynius clan is nothing but a bunch of busybodies.

So, defeated, Aelin repacks her bags for the mountains. She gives Essar the time off as well, sneakily booking her assistant a spa retreat as thanks for all of her hard work. The kind-hearted woman is uncomfortable with the gift, but the fact that Essar has trouble receiving such a treat only solidifies in Aelin’s mind that she deserves it.

##  **Jetsetter Aelin Galathynius Shares Road Trip Selfie with Lysandra Ennar.**

“Oh, Aedion! It’s _beautiful!_ ” Lysandra sighs, reaching across the car to clutch at Aedion’s bicep. Aelin crinkles her nose at their open displays of affection, but they all know that she’s only teasing, even a bit jealous—not that anyone is going to call Aelin out on it.

The house really is breathtaking, Aelin thinks, drinking in the sight of the residence as they get closer. Nestled between the trees, the family mountain getaway looks like something off a postcard with is large, open windows and stone exterior. _Rustic_ is a loosely used term to describe it.

Aelin daydreamed the whole way, tuning out Lysandra and Aedion’s bickering and letting her mind run away with itself. She feels herself quickly sinking into that weird place of hers again, caught somewhere between happy and sad, somewhere between content and restless.

She just needs some sleep, Aelin tells herself. She needs some time off, which is precisely why they’re all here.

##  **The Galathynius Real Estate Portfolio.**

“So,” Aedion starts conversationally as they buzz through the gate. This home away from home is almost more secure than Aelin’s townhome, and that’s saying something. “That security guard of yours didn’t want to come?”

Aelin blinks. It takes her a second to realize he’s talking about Chaol. The security already on the premises negated the need for Aelin’s usual team. It appeared as if everyone in her camp was getting a holiday by her squirreling away in the mountains, far away from civilization.

She’s never realized what an inconvenience she can be.

“No,” Aelin says after too long of a pause. “Uh, he had other things to do.”

Chaol didn’t desire to tag along is what she really means. It doesn’t bother Aelin as much as maybe it should; as he’d said before, they weren’t much of anything, really. There were no commitments. Just two consenting adults indulging in a somewhat inappropriate sexual relationship.

Twin eyes meet hers in the rearview mirror. Aedion must be able to see it, how she’s slipping away again. The indifference. Normal Aelin would be bitching right now about having to deal with the two of them on her own, about being the third wheel, but she’s not.

Lysandra saves the conversation. “Well, as soon as you send him a picture of yourself in that bikini, I made you pack, he’ll be rueing that decision.”

Aedion makes a displeased sound that makes Lysandra smirk; Aelin rolls her eyes at both of them. She recognizes their effort, knows that they care, but she wishes they’d just… leave her alone.

Still, Aelin wishes that she had someone curled into this little back seat with her right now; she wishes that there was someone beside her to make silly conversation to, to complain to, to fight and flirt with. Aelin wishes someone was in her life that would commit to spending two long weeks in the mountains with absolutely fucking nothing to do—with her.

The realization nearly undoes her. Aelin is _lonely._

“You think any harder, and smoke’s gonna come out your ears,” Aedion teases, parking the car in front of the expansive garage.

Aelin blinks. She recognizes her parents’ car already parked out front. It’ll be nice to spend some time with them.

Lysandra is watching her with gentle amusement. Her smile is feline. “Ace, you certainly don’t look like someone who’s about to spend two weeks lounging poolside with a hot model.”

That earns the barest of smiles; Aelin scoffs as she gets out of the car, shooting her best friend a haughty expression. “That’s because I’m way hotter than the model,” she tells Lysandra. “I mean, just look at my boobs.”

Lysandra makes a sound of outrage, tossing her chocolate brown hair over one shoulder. She’s such a diva; Aelin loves her. 

“Whatever, Aelin Galathynius. My ass totally wins over your boobs any day.”

Aelin barks a laugh. 

“Aedion!” She calls for her cousin, biting back a smile. The man just rolls his eyes in response, closing the trunk without a word. She knows Aedion won’t like being included in the conversation, but that’s not going to stop Aelin. 

“Addy,” she insists. “Who’s hotter? Me? Or, Lys?”

“Is that some kind of trick question?” Aedion’s face is twisted in disgust. “What the _fuck_ , Aelin?”

“That’s not an answer, babe,” Lysandra tells her boyfriend, slinking up beside him and wrapping her arms around his middle.

Aelin’s cousin scoffs in outrage. “I’m exiting this conversation now.”

“Well, clearly, I’ve just won,” Lys declares. The women break into a chorus of laughter, and Aedion grumbles with displeasure. His girlfriend only squeezes him tighter, leaning against him, and smacking a kiss to his cheek. Aedion’s frown morphs into a smile.

Aelin screws her face up at the sight of them. They’re disgusting, and Aelin definitely hates them. When she tells the couple as much, they laugh. Unoffended.

##  **Adarlan Records Announces Gala.**

Time passes more quickly when forgetting to count the days.

However, Aelin relishes the escape from reality. She hides away the cellphone dedicated to her business life and wastes away hours playing stupid games on her personal one. Essar and Nesryn, her publicist, both know how to reach her if something they can’t handle alone comes up. Though, Aelin suspects that her mother may have threatened them from doing so.

It’s kind of nice, though, not having to be _Aelin Galathynius_ for a change. Without the spotlight and the cameras and the people asking for things, she get’s to just be—Aelin.

Rowan and she text infrequently. Adult friendships are hard. Weird, too. Both of those feelings are amplified when trying to reconcile an old relationship. Aelin is realizing more and more why she has so few people in her immediate circle.

**I have something to show you.** Rowan’s text interrupts her round of Candy Crush, but Aelin is too excited to hear from him to be upset about losing her winning streak. 

**Wow, sounds dirty.** Aelin shoots off the text and immediately regrets it. Whoever decided to let her be in charge of her own communications. _Gods_ , she’s such a fucking id—

**It’s my daughter, you weirdo.** She can imagine Rowan’s delivery of the words, a severe deadpan followed by a smile. 

Her fingers hover over the keyboard, trying to find something witty to say in response; she comes up with nothing—the phone buzzes in her hands, and a video loads. Aelin presses play immediately. 

Thea Whitethorn is dressed in a purple tutu and a pair of bright yellow sunglasses; her ponytail looks to be something of Rowan’s doing, brown curls escaping in any and every direction. Aelin doesn’t know what’s about to happen, but she’s already fucking thrilled. 

It takes the woman a moment to hear the music playing in the background; she realizes that it's hers. Rowan’s daughter dances offbeat to the tempo, mumbling along to the words. It’s clear she’s only gotten some of the lyrics down, only really knows some of the words, but that isn’t going to stop Thea from singing. A girl after Aelin’s own heart.

When it gets to the part, Thea knows, however, she _belts._

> _FIRE inmyveins dreamdeeply LOOOVE_

> _Remind me I'M ALIVE._

Aelin is smiling so hard it hurts. She replays the video once. Twice.

> _Will you love me when my heartbeat STOPS?_

> _When my heartBEAT STOPS, will you stay MINE? (mine)_

> _Will you promise ME you'll search for US?_

> _Will you find ME AFTER-LIFE? (life)_

**That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever seen in my entire life.** Aelin texts Rowan back once she’s done showing everyone in the nearest vicinity the video. 

Her parents thought it was sweet; Lysandra gave her a look that made her run away. Aedion and Fleetfoot pretended not to care. **You know, Buzzard, I have an opening in my backup vocals if she’s interested.**

Rowan takes a bit longer to respond this time. Aelin tries hard not to watch her phone; she fails. There’s just nothing to do in this stupid house. 

**Don’t tempt her** , he says. **She’ll never forgive me when I tell her she’s too young.**

##  **Aelin Galathynius Goes Hiking**

It’s her mother that finally drags her away from the couch. Evalin insists on going on a hike through the property, and she insists that it be her daughter that goes with her. Rhoe is working remotely with Aedion, and Lysandra is hiding somewhere where Aelin can’t find her. So, she goes.

It’s just a hike; it can’t be that bad.

“Fleetfoot!” Aelin calls after her pet. The dog moves like some other-worldly creature out here in the woods, like something straight out of a fantasy novel, disappearing amongst the trees. “Come back here, ya mutt!”

“Don’t be mean to my puppy,” Evalin scolds her daughter lightheartedly. Aelin sends her mother an offended look. She doesn’t know when her parents started to claim her dog as their own, but she’s wounded. They _never_ wanted a dog when she was younger.

“I don’t want her to get lost,” Aelin says softly, worry lining her eyes. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and, I don’t know, there’s bears and shit.”

Her mother laughs. It takes a little encouragement, but Fleetfoot returns to their side quickly, tongue lolling and eyes bright with excitement.

“She’s way happier out here in the middle of nowhere, huh?” Aelin observes, ruffling the dog’s head. Fleetfoot finds her owner a stick, and Aelin tosses it ahead of them down the path, laughing as the dog takes off.

Evalin’s tone is carefully neutral. “I think we all are happier out here.”

Aelin’s shoulders drop, and she groans. “Yeah, I walked right into that one, huh?”

Her mother’s laugh is light and sweet. They fall quiet for a little while. Fleetfoot returns with the stick, chasing after it seconds later when Aelin throws it once more. She’s just starting to think she’ll get out of the conversation at hand, but then, Aelin catches her mother watching her and sighs. 

“Everything’s fine, Mom,” Aelin groans, trying to shrug off the topic. “I’m just… being lazy—enjoying _vacation_.”

Evalin looks unimpressed. “You’ve spent the last week moping on the couch or hiding in your bed, honey. I have every right to be worried about you.”

“Is this why you asked me to come with you?” Aelin scoffs, frustrated at being cornered. “To interrogate me?”

“No, Fireheart.” Her mother’s eyes are soft with worry. “I wanted to spend some time with you is all—to see how you are doing. You’ve been hiding from all of us.”

Aelin groans, rubbing at her face. “Will everyone just stop fussing over me?”

The words come out in a hiss, shaper then intended. Her mother’s mouth falls open in surprise, but Evalin recovers quickly, that same mouth forming a determined line. Aelin recognizes that look; she sees it in the mirror all of the time.

“Well, we’d stop _fussing_ over you if you’d just talk to one of us,” her mother snaps. “Or to anyone, really. Honestly, Aelin.”

It’s incredible how easily Aelin falls back into her teenage years, raising her hackles and blocking out her mother’s words. Everyone keeps pick, pick, picking at her. She doesn’t want to talk about this with them, but for some reason, they think that’ll change by forcing her.

“Will you all just leave me alone?” She all but yells, feeling petulant. “ _Please?_ I didn’t even want to come on this stupid vacation. Shit.”

“ _Aelin._ ” Her mother calls after her, but Aelin doesn’t stop. She heads back towards the house without another word to her mother, defensive for no reason. Fleetfoot follows loyally, hot on her heels.

##  **Source claims Aelin Galathynius is Working on Her Next Album.**

Aelin decides to lie low for the next few days. 

Wisely, both of her parents leave her alone for the most part, but Aedion and Lysandra take turns annoying the hell out of her. She knows that they’re worried, that they’re just trying to take care of her, but she wishes everyone would just leave her be.

Fleetfoot sticks to her like glue. The dog is a soothing presence, laying on her back as she sleeps or in her lap as she writes. Fleetfoot is the only reason that she leaves the confines of the house now, going out for runs with the dog or playing fetch on the lawn.

The sunshine is good for her, Aelin thinks. It’s a nice change to be able to go outside without an entourage of security and assistants and other people vying for her attention. The lack of reporters and cameras is jarring at first; Aelin can’t remember the last time she didn’t have to worry about what she was wearing or what her face looked like or if someone found her rude.

“Would you still like me if I weren’t famous?” she asks Lysandra one afternoon as they lay by the pool one late afternoon. Lysandra is nothing if not persistent; Aelin was bound to give in to her pleas eventually.

She hates that Lys was right. Aelin _is_ enjoying herself, even if she feels ridiculous in this bathing suit next to a model that’s been featured on _Sports Illustrated_ more than once.

“Mm, you’d certainly be less trouble,” Lysandra muses as she scrolls through her phone. Aelin’s face must give away her concern because her friend smiles, peering at the blonde over her shades. “I’m kidding, Ae. Of course, I’d still like you. We’re friends because you’re cool, not because you’re, well, _cool_.”

Aelin can’t help but laugh at that. “Thanks. I think.”

“No, problem,” the brunette chirps, adjusting her sunglasses back on her face and leaning her head back into the sun.

Aelin tries her best to mirror Lysandra, but she’s just—uncomfortable.

It’s a relief when Lys finally breaks the quiet. “I have a secret.”

The singer doesn’t miss her chance. “You’re pregnant.”

Lysandra snorts. “ _Gods_ , Aelin. You’re really not going to let that one go, are you?”

“Nope.” Aelin smiles. “If I say it enough, one of these times, I’ll actually be right.”

“Well played.” A pause. “I did something bad yesterday.”

Her interest is immediately piqued. “Define bad,” Aelin says, sitting up and eyeing her best friend suspiciously. “Did you do something _Aelin Bad_ or something, like, normal people bad?”

Lysandra fights a smile, but she rolls her eyes, pretending to have to think it over. “Normal people bad.”

“Oh—that’s disappointing.” Aelin grins as Lysandra smacks her.

When their laughter fades, the model confesses, “I snuck through Aedion’s phone.” Aelin’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline, but Lysandra quickly clarifies, “Like, not purposefully or anything. I—he asked for me to check a message for him, so I did.”

Aelin is confused. “So, how is it a bad thing if he asked you?”

The brunette bites her lip. “Because when I unlocked it, something was open… And I may have taken a peek.”

“Lys!” Aelin hisses, throwing the notebook she’s holding at her friend. “Could you just spit it out? I’m dying over here!”

Her friend laughs, but it fades quickly. Lysandra’s expression turns soft, a little tearful even, and Aelin’s heart hammers, expecting the worst. It’s what always happens to her; perhaps, she’s started to rub off on her friends.

“Um,” Lys bites her lip. “He was shopping for, uh, for a ring.”

Aelin’s mouth falls open. “ _Shut up_.”

Lysandra sniffles, fighting back the apparent tears. Aelin’s heart soars; it sinks.

“You really didn’t know?” Her friend asks at last. “Aedion didn’t tell you?”

Aelin shakes her head furiously. “Like my cousin would ever be stupid enough to tell me a secret like that!”

“Good point.” Lysandra laughs. Aelin’s friend just looks so… happy.

She’s fucking jealous as hell.

##  **Aelin Galthynius Shares Family Vacation Photo!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! another update within 24hrs. i go back to work on monday (so sad), so i’ll do my best to fill a few more prompts and post some updates before then. for now, enjoy all of the rowan-thea content.

##  **Cambrian Mountains, the Top Vacation Spot for Doranelle’s Rich and Famous.**

The next morning, Aelin Galathynius is doing what she always does when she has too many feelings, too many thoughts, too many problems—she’s writing. 

It’s how she works through things; she’s done it since high school, back when she first started writing little lyrical poems in a ratty old notebook that changed her entire life. Music is her therapy. Aelin doesn’t need to talk to anyone; she just needs to write.

> _Help me, it's like the walls are caving in  
>  Sometimes I feel like giving up  
> But I just can't  
> It isn't in my blood_

Sometimes it’s easier than others. Aelin’s wasted most of the day sitting here on her bed, writing and rewriting the same few words. There’s a melody in her head, but there are no words to go with it. She’s stuck; she’s pissed; she’s tired.

> _I'm overwhelmed and insecure, give me something  
>  I could take to ease my mind slowly  
> Just have a drink and you'll feel better  
> Just take him home and you'll feel better  
> Keep telling me that it gets better  
> Does it ever?_

Fleetfoot is bored. The dog sighs from her spot on the bed, tail twitching with impatience. Aelin should probably go outside and take the poor thing for a walk or something, but she just needs to _finish_ this. So, she can move on with herself.

“We’re almost there, puppy,” Aelin assures the dog softly. Fleetfoot groans, making her owner laugh. “Don’t be so impatient. I’ve gotta pay for all those toys of yours somehow.”

Another groan. Aelin bites her lip and gets back to work.

> _Help me, it's like the walls are caving in  
>  Sometimes I feel like giving up  
> No medicine is strong enough  
> Someone help me  
> I'm crawling in my skin  
> Sometimes I feel like giving up  
> But I just can't—_

Aelin stops, laying her palm across the strings of her guitar to silence the music. She sits there quietly, feeling Fleetfoot’s big brown eyes watching her closely.

She’s stuck. That’s all she’s got.

“ _Fine_ ,” Aelin tells her audience. “Let’s go.”

The dog perks up at those key words. Fleetfoot knows exactly what that means; even if she isn’t sure where she’s going, the dog knows she’s going _somewhere_.

In the living room, Aelin finds her cousin hunched over his computer, brow pinched and looking aggravated. She waltzes towards him, and at the sight of her, Aedion slams his laptop closed. Aelin’s smile turns wicked.

“I know something, you don’t know,” she sings, tugging his shoulder-length hair as she passes. Fleetfoot is already waiting by the door, dancing on her toes.

Aedion glares at her suspiciously. “What is it?”

Aelin shrugs a shoulder. When she opens the door, her dog races onto the yard, leading the way. “A lady never tells her secrets.”

“Well, you sure as fuck aren’t a lady,” he calls after her as she steps outside; Aelin flips him off. “I’ll get it out of you in time!”

##  **Aelin Shares Photo of Dog, “Fleetfoot Galathynius.”**

It’s been a lazy afternoon. Lysandra and Aelin are lying beside the pool, basking in the sun. Aelin is struggling to stay awake, to pay attention to her friend’s idle chatter, but she’s not having very much success. The sun is warm, and Aelin’s eyelids are heavy. She’s definitely about to fall asleep.

When a delighted squeal pierces the air, Aelin jolts awake with an unceremonious snort. Lysandra breaks into a fit of giggles at her expensive, and Aelin glares in her direction, but she’s also very curious.

“Did you and Aedion skip right to the baby step?” The model only rolls her eyes at Aelin, but the singer can tell Lys is curious about the noise as well.

Another squeal, the distinct sound of a very excited little girl. However, there aren’t any little girls with them right now, and they’re staying in a vacation home settled on acres of private mountainside, with no neighbors for miles. It has to be someone that they know. But who?

“Addy!” A little girl cheers. Thea.

Aelin hears her cousin’s booming laugh in response. “Hey, kiddo!”

Lysandra’s face transforms. Rowan’s daughter unquestionably has everyone wrapped around her little fingers. Aelin’s pulse spikes at the realization that Rowan and Thea are here. She’s missed them during her time away from Doranelle, and she’s eager to see Rowan again.

“Hey, Lys! Look who I found!” Aedion turns the corner, Thea propped on his hip. The toddler squeals again, and Aelin’s smile is hurting her face with how big it’s grown.

“Kitten!” Lys cries, wiggling her fingers to ask for the little girl. Her boyfriend is quick to surrender Thea over. “What are you doing here?”

Rowan follows behind them, smiling, and the sight of him so happy makes Aelin’s heart trip over itself. She can’t meet his eye when he looks her way, concentrating on the little, giggling girl sitting in Lysandra’s lap instead.

“We’re going to have birthday cake!” Thea tells the model wildly. It’s only then that Aelin remembers her birthday; she’s been trying so hard to disregard it. Of course, her parents wouldn’t let her get away with such a thing.

The adults chuckle at Thea. Rowan frowns at his daughter, but it’s clear he’s fighting his own smile. “Thea, we didn’t drive four hours just for birthday cake.”

“I don’t know,” Aelin lilts, crossing one ankle over the other and leaning back in her chair. It takes everything in her not to cross her arms and hide; she’s suddenly feeling very, very self-conscious about her choice of bikini. “Kid might be on to something; my mom makes a pretty good cake.”

A pair of smiling green eyes. “You’re a terrible influence.”

Aelin just winks.

##  **Lysandra Ennar Looks Glamorous in a Green Bikini.**

“So, you really didn’t know we were coming?” Rowan asks Aelin as they wait at the table. Thea sits between them, anxiously waiting for the cake she’s been promised.

“Not a clue.” Aelin spies the concern in his eyes and instantly seeks to comfort him. “I’m happy you guys are here, though. Don’t fuss about it; you know how sneaky my mom is.”

Rowan ducks his head. “I just—“

“I know,” Aelin tells him, smiling. “I know.”

“Cake!” Thea cheers when Rhoe approaches the table with the cake at long last. A cackle escapes Aelin; at least _someone_ is excited about her birthday.

 _Happy birthday to you,_ the table starts to sing. Rowan coaxes his daughter into singing along; Thea is a willing participant, shouting above the rest and clapping.

Aelin cringes as her father sets the cake before her. She turns towards her mother, who films the whole thing. “Gods, Mom. Did you find enough candles?”

“Quick, Ace,” Aedion taunts. “Blow them out before they set off the smoke alarm.”

“F—“ Aelin chokes on her swear. Rowan grins, covering his daughter's ears for his friend. Aelin jumps at the opportunity. “Fuck you!”

Laughter. Thea giggles along, sweet and innocently.

“Fireheart,” her mother’s voice is fond if disapproving. “Blow out those candles and put that poor little girl out of her misery.”

Everyone looks to Thea. The toddler vibrates in her seat as she gazes upon the cake like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

“Wanna help me make a wish?” Aelin asks, leaning in toward the little girl.

Thea’s green eyes go wide with awe, and then she nods furiously. Rowan’s smile transforms his face as he watches his daughter tuck her knees underneath her to better reach her goal. His hands hover around her, ready to catch Thea if she stumbles.

“Okay! Can you count to three with me?” Aelin asks.

Another nod.

“One…” The table counts along. “Two—“

“THREE!” Thea shouts. Together, she and Aelin blow out the twenty-seven candles; the older woman is laughing too hard to really manage. Thea ends up doing most of the work, but it doesn’t look as if she minds.

The air is festive in the home as Rhoe cuts and serves the cake. As the birthday girl, Aelin is served first, but she quickly slides the first slice to Thea, smiling as the little girl gasps with excitement. Aelin gladly accepts the next piece.

“What did you wish for, Kitten?” Lysandra asks.

“Cake!” Thea announces, viciously stabbing the dessert with her fork and making her father bark with laughter.

“What about you, Aelin?” Aedion asks, eyes promising trouble. “Wish for anything in… particular?”

Aelin’s so happy that she thinks she could die, and she isn’t about to let her stupid cousin ruin the moment. However, she isn’t about to share what she wished for either. That’s private.

Instead, she replies, “For a niece. Thea needs a playmate.”

“Oh, I like that idea,” Evalin coos from her place at the table. Her husband offers her a forkful of cake from his plate, and she accepts, despite having her own piece. Aelin smiles as she watches her parents.

“Good wish, Aelin,” Evalin says through the mouthful of cake, sharing a smile with her husband.

That right there; that’s what she wished for.

##  **Birthday Girl! See How Pop Star, Aelin Galathynius Celebrated Twenty-Seven Years.**

Aelin groans, combating the urge to chuck the guitar in her hands across the room. She’s stuck on this chorus, can’t figure out the music to go along with it; she’s frustrated and tired but can’t go to sleep.

She starts over, strumming the guitar once, and sounding out the lyrics. Aelin snarls, “This is so _stupid_ —”

“Everything okay in here?” Rowan interrupts, peeking into the room just in time to witness Aelin finally tossing the guitar across the bed.

She flushes at being caught. “Songwriting sucks, and I hate it.”

“Never has a bigger lie come from your lips,” Rowan informs her. Her friend hovers at the door, uncomfortable with inviting himself in. 

Aelin remembers a time when that didn’t use to be a problem. There was a point in their friendship when Rowan had a key to her apartment; he didn’t use to wait for an invitation. Back then, he’d already be taking up space on her bed, stealing her guitar, and complaining about the tuning.

“This new album and I…” Aelin gestures to the scratched up paper in front of her, the discarded instrument. “We’re not friends.”

Rowan’s eyes crinkle as he tries not to smile are her expense. “Want some help?”

The proposal surprises Aelin. She waves her hands lamely towards the guitar. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Be my guest.”

She isn’t sure why, but watching Rowan enter her room and take the guitar off the bed makes Aelin nervous. He takes the instrument without comment, perching on the edge of the armchair and strumming.

Fleetfoot scoots over to lay at Rowan's feet immediately. The dog likes the guitar, enjoys the music; she's always the first to come running at the sound. Rowan strums once more, then frowns.

“Don’t start,” Aelin hisses, biting back a laugh.

Rowan grins. “No, no. The tune isn’t actually that bad. Someone’s been practicing.”

“Fuck you!” She grumbles, earning a smile.

“Alright,” he says, holding out his hand for the notebook. Aelin’s heart hammers as she passes over that little piece of her soul to him. This is Rowan; she doesn’t need to be nervous. He used to look at her music all of the time. And yet.

He glances over what she has, plays with the chords she’s made a note of. Rowan nods once. “Let’s hear it, Ace.”

> _My demons are begging me to open up my mouth_  
>  I need them, mechanically make the words come out  
> They fight me, vigorous and angry, watch them pounce  
> Ignite me, licking up the flames they bring about

Her voice shakes a little as she sings, trying to keep the words low and in time with his playing. It’s late; she doesn’t want to bother anyone. If Rowan notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“I know the problem,” he tells her conspiratorially. Aelin meets his troublesome smile easily. She can feel them falling into old habits easily, finding common, familiar ground. “You need a piano.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius's Surprise Midnight Livestream.**

“You’re drunk, Aelin Galathynius,” Rowan observes, but his eyes are crinkled with happiness. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Aelin’s fingers are dancing across the piano keys. At his words, she stops, shooting him an offended look. She points at him in accusation. “Rowan Whitethorn, _you’re_ drunk.”

That earns her one of her favorite Rowan laughs, full and happy, but the pitch is a little too high compared to normal. It’s almost a giggle. Rowan is _very_ drunk. Aelin beams.

He frowns at the sound of his laugh. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“You need help working that phone, grandpa?” She asks, prompting Rowan to scowl. “Or do you need me to come over there and help you?”

His brow is furrowed as he looks at the screen. “All I have to do is press play—right?”

Aelin flops onto the couch to double-check. If she gets through the song and realizes Rowan’s messed up, Aelin will be very disappointed. Her side presses into his as she takes the phone from him. She tries not to focus on it too much.

“Yeah,” she says. “Everything looks right. Don’t fuck up, Buzzard.”

“Hey, I’m not the one about to perform for the internet, Fireheart,” he remarks, surprising her by borrowing her mother’s nickname for her. Rowan’s finger hovers above the screen as she retakes her seat. When Aelin nods, he taps the screen with a flourish.

“Are you going to do an intro or just sit there?” Rowan asks, interrupting Aelin as she takes another sip of her drink.

“You’re an intro!” She barks back.

Rowan snorts. “That doesn’t make _any_ sense.”

Aelin giggles for no reason. Tonight, she is a very, very happy drunk; she can’t remember why she thought she needed to quit. Rowan, on the other hand, holds his liquor a little better than her; her old friend pulls her back to the present. “Well?” 

She flips him off and takes another sip. Rowan rolls his eyes, making Aelin burst into laughter once more. After it passes, Aelin takes a deep breath and turns towards the camera. 

“Hello! It’s midnight. We’re drunk. My name is Aelin Galathynius, and this is _Hold Me Down._ ”

##  **Who Was Aelin’s Cameraman? Theories Circulate About His Identity.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a little beast of an update compared to my normal chapters... a little over 4k. anyway, the song at the end is a fleetwood mac cover by bailey rushlow, and i’ll go add it to the playlist now. 
> 
> also, thank all of you for your comments! i appreciate all of them. :)

##  **A New Aelin Galathynius Album is Rumored to Be Almost Complete!**

When Aelin returns to the waking world, it’s the pleasant kind of return to consciousness that only every comes after a really, really great evening. Her bed is warm and comfortable and smells nice, and so, she snuggles more deeply into the covers, curling around the body next to her and sighing with content. 

Aelin has a conference call later today, and there’s more than a few emails marked urgent from her team in her inbox. It’s almost time to return to reality; her vacation is nearly at its end. Aelin presses her face in between two shoulder blades, tightening the grip of her arms and humming. Vacation isn’t over quite yet. 

She smiles. She frowns. Aelin blinks her eyes open and looks around. This isn’t her room—Aelin _panics._

Aelin nearly topples out of the bed as she jolts away from Rowan’s sleeping form. _What the fuck is going on?_

Her brain struggles to catch up with her senses; Aelin was definitely just cuddling up to Rowan _in his bed_. Her heart starts to race as another thought overcomes her mind. White-hot fear surges through her veins, and Aelin tosses back the covers, try to recall just what went down last night. It’s not easy to do through the hazy veil of her father’s good bourbon.

Still, Rowan is fully-clothed, jeans and t-shirt and socks, and Aelin is still wearing her sleeping shorts, and her bra is digging uncomfortably into her ribcage. She takes a deep breath and checks in with her body, gets mad at herself for even having to do such a thing, and sighs.

Aelin bites back a groan, rubbing her face in frustration. She’s done some seriously bad— _Aelin bad_ —shit while drunk before. She’s spent nights with people she didn’t know or couldn’t remember; she’s woken up to a rainbow assortment of pills littering her apartment. 

Well, at least she can’t add sleeping with Rowan to the list.

“Shit,” she swears harshly under her breath. “Aelin, you fucking drunk.”

Aelin takes one last look at the man sleeping beside her. She finds herself kind of tempted to stay, to curl back up beside him, and test the waters. Aelin would like to know how Rowan might react to finding her in his bed in the morning light, wonders what a groggy, sleep-ruffled Rowan looks like.

But, Rowan’s wife just _died_. Only a handful of months ago. There’s no way he’d ever be receptive to all of this. Aelin knows exactly how loyal of a man he is, that he loved Lyria, and is grieving her loss. So, Aelin sneaks out of the room before he wakes up, like she’s sixteen again, and her life depends on getting out without her parents hearing her.

He doesn’t stir. Aelin thinks she’s relieved. And yet.

##  **Ansel Briarcliff Teases New Release On Social Media.**

“And just where you this morning?” Lysandra asks as Aelin shuffles into the room and hops onto the stool beside her. Aedion slides a generous mug of coffee in his cousin’s direction; his Ashryver eyes dart between the two women, but he makes no comment about their conversation.

Aelin delays her answer by drinking heartily from the coffee cup first. The warm dark liquid is bitter and hot and exactly what she needs to conquer the alcohol and Rowan infused fog still fucking with her mind. She shrugs.

“I got drunk last night—passed out in the study,” her tone is a masterful blend of self-deprecating and nonchalant. It’s her favorite armor.

Neither Lysandra nor Aedion look particularly convinced by her excuse, but approaching footsteps distract them before they can begin their interrogation. Aelin’s shoulders relax with relief as everyone looks away from her, but she quickly jumps back on the offense when she realizes who’s coming.

Rowan pads into the kitchen area, hair ruffled and clothes a little wrinkled. Aelin has to force herself to look away before she can embarrass herself by staring. Fuck, she was totally right about how cute he’d look after first waking up. 

“Someone looks well-rested,” Lys observes, her tone pointed. Aelin contemplates murdering her friend; she thinks Aedion will forgive her—in time.

Rowan clears his throat, claiming the seat beside Aelin, much to her chagrin and delight. “Yeah. I slept like a rock.”

Aelin sees it when the lightbulb goes off in her cousin’s mind, when he connects the dots and decipher the duality of the conversation that the women in front of him were having. His eyebrows raise, and Aedion looks Aelin’s way, curiosity clearly written in his forehead wrinkles.

“Well, that makes one of us,” Lys tells the room. Her voice is rife with suggestion, but it’s Aedion’s proud smile that makes Aelin groan and drop her face to the counter dramatically. It seems like everyone else is in good humor, though, even Rowan laughs at Lys, nudging Aelin with his elbow playfully.

“Oh, c’mon, Aelin,” Aedion taunts his cousin, enjoying every second of it. “All you ever do is hound the two of us about having a baby. How do you suppose we go about getting one of those?”

“Immaculate conception, of course,” she says into the cool marble of the counter. Lysandra cackles.

“A handful of Old Fashioneds is a good start.” Rowan delivers the line with his signature dry tone. Aelin can’t help but peek at him curiously from her hiding place. “But, a surefire route is to just skip the birth control. At least, that way, you avoid getting a hangover.”

The couple in the room bursts into laughter, but Aelin keeps her face hidden as she blushes madly. She doesn’t know what it is getting under her skin, whether it’s Aedion’s taunting or Rowan’s sex life or Lys’s knowing smile or how she woke up this morning.

Aelin can’t get herself to stop thinking about the fact that she got drunk and passing out in Rowan’s bed. Shit, she needs to tell someone; she’s all but bursting at the seams with the knowledge. But, Aelin is afraid to reopen that Pandora’s Box. Lysandra would never let her live it down.

She decides that she’ll just hide until the flush fades from her skin. Or, perhaps, she’ll just die instead.

The patio doors open while Aelin’s face is still buried in her arms. Fleetfoot yips excitedly at finding people awake and her parents’ voices fill the room.

“Daddy!” Thea cheers, clearly having figured out that final D sound and then some. She runs for her father, clambering into his lap and forcing herself into the limited space. Rowan seems more than happy to let her do so.

“My, _my._ What is everyone grinning about this morning?” Evalin asks, a smile in her voice. Aelin looks up, at last, pretends not to notice Rowan trying to meet her eye.

“Skipping birth control,” Lysandra tells her future mother-in-law shamelessly. Aelin groans as everyone laughs again, taking a sip from her coffee and wishing she were somewhere else. This conversation won’t go anywhere good with her mother involved.

Evalin sighs. “I certainly wish someone in this house would.”

Aedion chokes on his coffee at her words; Lysandra snickers at her boyfriend, rubbing his back as he tries to recover.

“Gods, Evalin.” Rhoe Galathynius looks simultaneously exasperated with his wife and horrified by the rest of them. He raises a brow, and it looks so much like one of Aelin’s own expressions that her mind gets confused. “That’s one hell of a breakfast topic, you think?”

“It certainly leaves breakfast unnecessary,” Aelin muses, sipping from her coffee.

“Breakfast?” Thea perks up.

Evalin smiles conspiratorially. “Some pancakes would be _lovely_. Don’t you think so, Rowan?”

“Pancakes!” The toddler agrees, earning a laugh. Aelin knows they’re only encouraging her by being amused, but Thea is just so fucking cute. Besides, her father makes pretty awesome pancakes.

Rowan’s laugh is full. “This kid eats more than you, Aelin.”

The blonde stares at him in outrage as the family laughs around her. Rowan’s smile doesn’t fade, crinkling his eyes as he waits for her response. He looks good like this. _Happy_.

“Well, we’re growing girls, Buzzard,” Aelin tells him, fighting the urge to meet the looks of the other people in the room. She struggles not to blush as Rowan’s grin grows. “So, you better get to work before we have you for breakfast.”

Lysandra snorts, making the joke dirty. Aedion mutters something under his breath before exiting the gathering without an excuse, tugging his girlfriend along with him. Aelin doesn’t know where her parents have wandered off to, but she isn’t worried about that right now.

Rowan arches his brow in a way that makes Aelin’s blood thrum and her pulse spike. The feeling leaves her dazed and confused, but she’s not one to back down from a challenge.

“Well?” She pushes.

“Yeah!” Thea rallies to Aelin’s side, easily persuaded with the promise of food. Her voice is loud and bossy. The message is clear, even if the words the little girl is saying aren’t. “Get to work!”

“See what you’ve done?” Rowan says, looking completely horrified. “You’ve turned my only daughter against me.”

“Oh, no!” Thea cries. Aelin can’t hold back the laughter anymore.

“You know you love it,” she tells him simply, wiping away her tears of joy and accepting Thea from him as Rowan rises from his seat to work the kitchen.

“You know, I kind of really do,” he admits. Rowan’s expression is a little odd, but he sounds fine—happy even. “It’s nice to have you back, Ace. I’ve missed you.”

Aelin has to swallow back the emotions to answer him. “Me, too.”

##  **Adarlan Records Hints at Upcoming Concert.**

“Catch! Catch!” Thea shouts as she runs across the yard a couple of days later. She’s running from Fleetfoot, and while the two-year-old doesn’t totally understand the game of fetch, Aelin doesn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise.

Besides, both Thea and Fleetfoot seem to be enjoying themselves. The little girl giggles as she runs, assuming that yelling catch at the dog is the correct command to get Fleetfoot to chase her, and Aelin’s dog trots loyally after her new companion. No harm, no foul.

“They look like they’re having fun,” Rowan’s baritone announces his presence, and Aelin flushes for no apparent reason. Gods. She’s a fucking rockstar; Aelin should be way cooler than this.

She chooses to train her eyes on the pair playing in the yard. “Yeah. They became fast friends, huh?”

Rowan snorts softly at that. “She asked me to get her a puppy.”

Aelin looks at him in surprise but seeing his petulant frown only makes her break into laughter. “I see you’re not keen on the idea?”

“I told her we’d just come visit you and Fleetfoot when she wanted to play,” he tells her, settling into the patio chair next to her. Aelin shares a smile with him; she likes that idea, spending more time with Rowan and Thea.

Aelin tells him as much. Rowan smiles softly in response.

A comfortable silence falls over them, and it’s almost like old times, Aelin thinks to herself. Thea and Fleetfoot run up and down the lawn, chasing merrily after one another. Yet, Aelin feels Rowan’s occasional glances her way; she can sense that he has an ulterior motive for joining her.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” she teases when she can’t stand it anymore.

Rowan scratches the scruff on his face, smiling her way guiltily. “Sorry.”

“Well? What is it? Spit it out, Buzzard?” Aelin bumps her knee with his playfully, smiling knowingly in his direction. 

“Um.” It’s his hesitation that tells Aelin she might not like the conversation that she’s just initiated. “I just wanted to—Well, I was wondering how you were doing?”

“Hungover,” Aelin deflects. Rowan rolls his eyes at her; they both see right through her, of course. So, she says, for the hundredth time, “I’m _fine_.”

Rowan nods once. “But are you really?”

She tries not to raise her hackles at his pushing, but Aelin can’t help biting back at him. “What? Did my parents put you up to this?” She snorts, reverting into that terrible, childish Aelin, she hates so. “Is that why my mom had you come out? To get information out of me?”

“Ae, don’t be like that,” Rowan says with incredible patience. She doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice so soft, but she never could replicate that stoicism of his. “We’re all just worried about you.”

Aelin bites her lip until she composes herself. She doesn’t want to yell at Rowan; he means well. Aelin knows that.

 _“I’m_ worried about you,” he tells her after a long moment. Aelin thinks it’s cheating to play that card, to look at her with such soft, green eyes filled with concern. Definitely cheating. 

Her breath escapes her in a rush. “I’m—“

 _Fine._ The unsaid word echoes between them. Aelin looks his way guiltily, waiting for the judgment to come or the interrogation to being or—just _something._

“I know.” The words aren’t what Aelin is expecting; they knock her off guard, while Rowan clears his throat. “But, I really think you should call that number Aedion gave you.”

She scoffs, looks away. 

Rowan perseveres. “I think it will help—even just a little. And if it doesn’t, then you can give it up. No one will judge you either way, but— I wish you’d give it a try. I’m asking you to. Not because anyone put me up to it, but because I care.”

Aelin sucks in a breath to argue, but she fails to find the words. She can’t be mean to him after saying _that._

Quietly, Rowan’s hand slides down her back— the lightest, briefest of touches. It’s nothing more than a simple _I’m here_. It sets her every nerve on fire even if it’s only meant to be supportive.

Rowan’s hand falls away too quickly, almost like it was an accident to touch her at all; he clears his throat, and they both avoid meeting each other’s gaze. Aelin resists gaping like a fool.

No one knows what to do in the following moments. Aelin and Rowan both choose to focus on Thea playing with the dog in the distance rather than each other, and Aelin wishes her face would stop burning with all of her emotions. 

It’s Rowan that breaks the horrible silence. 

“You should go get some sleep, Ace,” he tells her, voice void of feeling. Rowan always did win the poker games with the band. “You look rough.”

“Wow. Rude.”

Rowan’s smile is sly. His words are filled with laughter. “This coming from the person who nearly choked me to death in her sleep last night. _That_ was rude.”

Aelin blushes to her hairline, ducking her head to hide it.

“Shit. I thought you didn’t notice,” she mumbles, wiping her face as if she could remove the color from her cheeks with a such a simple gesture. 

Rowan doesn’t back down, but at least his laugh is fond and warm. “You’ve always been a cuddle monster. I see that hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Aelin covers her face with her hands. “I was drunk—Gods, I hate you so much.”

“Liar,” Rowan pokes her in the side, making her laugh harder, blush even more. “You know you missed me. I’ve got all the voicemails to prove it.”

A pause. Aelin’s smile is small but sincere. “Yeah.”

Rowan frowns, the meaning of his words finally registering for him. He looks apologetic, but Aelin’s has had enough apologies.

“How are you doing, Rowan?” she interrupts, afraid to meet his eye. “With—everything.”

Aelin’s friend sighs deeply; Rowan seems to sink into his chair, scratching at the back of his head as he thinks hard about his answer. Aelin tries to wait as patiently as he did for her.

“Shittily,” he decides on. It’s so honest, and so Rowan that Aelin can’t stop the small laugh that escapes her. He’s smile is equally sardonic. “But, I’m going to need some more of that bourbon we were drinking last night before I’m ready to unpack it.”

“Sounds like my kind of plan,” she tells him with a wink.

##  **Where is Aelin Galathynius? The Artist Disappears from the Public Eye.**

The next day, Aelin parks herself in front of the upright piano in the den. It may not be as nice as the grand piano in the great room, but it’s secluded and set away from most of the activity within the house. She can’t focus with her family lingering, watching her, or commenting on this or that. 

Here in the den, her family knows to leave her be, which is precisely what she needs. Aelin knows they’re listening anyway, quietly from the other room as the magic happens, but at least this way, she can pretend. 

By evening, she starts to burn out, but Aelin is quite ready to call it quiets yet, even if all she is doing at this point is playing out random chord progressions to pass the time. Maybe something will click in her brain if she waits just one more moment, or perhaps, she’ll just end up pissed off when she comes up with nothing.

“Sing?” a little voice interrupts her thoughts.

After so many hours of solitude, Aelin is surprised to hear another voice in the room, much less have it directed at her. Familiar bright green eyes shine hopefully in her direction; Thea smiles at Aelin, clutching a worn teddy bear to her chest, both of her arms wrapped around it tightly. 

They both stare at one another, Thea with hope and Aelin with confusion.

Thea is the one to break the standoff. She giggles, asks again, “Sing?”

“You want to sing?” Aelin asks, remembering the video Rowan shared with her. Thea shakes her head no, and Aelin couldn’t fight off her smile if she wanted to. “You want me to sing? For you?”

The little girl _fucking beams_ and Aelin’s heart melts into a puddle.

“Sing before bedtime!” Thea cheers, hopping up and down with her words. Aelin notices Thea’s pajamas; it must be later than she realized.

“Where’s your daddy at?” Aelin asks curiously, wondering if the man in question is about to come in search of his daughter. She still feels self-conscious about singing and writing in front of Rowan; the alcohol helped the other night, but Aelin really can’t write all of her songs drunk.

Thea shrugs. “I’m ‘posed to stay with Ev-lin.”

Aelin is more than a little intrigued by this development, but she tables it for later. There are other things to take care of right now. She flashes the little girl a smile and waves her over. “C’mon, let’s sing a song.”

“Yay!” Thea joins Aelin at the piano eagerly; she’s grown more comfortable with Aelin now after a week in the mountains. Yet, she’s nowhere near as comfortable with Aelin as Thea is with Lysandra. The blonde is still trying very hard not to be jealous.

Aelin presses a few notes, trying to pick a song to play that’s appropriate for a little girl. There aren’t very many of them, really. Aelin can’t believe that Rowan lets his daughter listen to her music.

Finally, she turns to Thea, asking, “Any requests?”

“New song,” Thea demands, and Aelin cackles.

“Who told you there were new songs?” she asks the toddler.

“Daddy said so,” Thea reveals without pressure.

Aelin smiles, running her fingers across the keys. Thea settles onto the bench beside her comfortably, kicking her legs back and forth where they dangle. The teddy sits on her lap.

“Remind me never to trust you with my secrets, Thea Whitethorn,” Aelin says ominously. The girl in question just giggles.

“Okay,” Aelin looks at Thea. Wide green eyes gaze back at her, sensing the seriousness of Aelin’s tone. “You get to be the first person _ever_ to hear this song. Does that sound okay to you?”

Thea nods excitedly, bouncing in her seat.

“Cool, here it goes,” Aelin says, beginning to play.

> Can you hear me calling  
> Out your name  
> You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say
> 
> I'll speak a little louder  
> I'll even shout  
> You know that I'm proud and I can't get the words out
> 
> Oh I  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh I  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> (Wanna be with you everywhere)

She chances a look Thea’s way. The little girl watches Aelin play with rapt attention; Aelin smiles, sneaks a nudge into Thea’s side with her elbow, and keeps playing.

Thea’s giggle is her reward.

> Something's happening  
> Happening to me  
> My friends say I'm acting peculiarly
> 
> C'mon baby  
> We better make a start  
> You better make it soon before you break my heart
> 
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> (Wanna be with you everywhere)

Thea sings softly along with the chorus, the repetitive nature of the words easy for the little girl to remember. Aelin’s finding it hard to sing while smiling so hard.

> Can you hear me calling  
> Out your name  
> You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say
> 
> Oh come along baby  
> We better make a start  
> You better make it soon before you break my heart

She nudges Thea, and two sing the chorus together, a little louder than necessary.

> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh ah  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> (Wanna be with you everywhere)

The music dies down, and Aelin sings more softly now. Thea giggles despite the solemn tone. She’s very, very cute.

> Can you hear me calling  
> Out your name  
> You know that I'm falling and I don't know what to say
> 
> I'll speak a little louder  
> I'll even shout  
> You know that I'm proud and I can't get the words out
> 
> Oh I  
> I want to be with you everywhere  
> Oh I  
> I want to be with you

As the music fades, Aelin turns to look at Thea. The little girl watches the keys with awe, head resting atop her teddy’s. When the notes disappear, she blinks her sleepy, green eyes up at Aelin and smiles.

“Again!” she pleads, despite looking very, very ready for bed.

Aelin laughs at Thea’s enthusiasm. “So, you’re not a very tough critic, huh?”

“Nooo,” the little girl says through a giggle. Although, Aelin is pretty sure Thea has no idea what that phrase even means.

“Okay, so… what should we play now?” Aelin asks.

Thea looks so much like Rowan with her eyebrows pinched together that Aelin feels her world turn upside down at the sight. Her green eyes are tentative when she asks, “Do you know my mommy’s song?”

Grief hits Aelin like a punch to the gut. Her mind scrambles to find the right words. “Um, it depends. What song is it?”

Thea shrugs, and Aelin is lost. Suddenly, she feels very out of her depth.

“Oh—Well—“

“There you are!” Rowan interrupts, saving Aelin from herself. She hadn’t heard him come in, but she’s happy, if uncomfortable, to see him.

“Hey,” she greets awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snoop, but I was looking for Thea.” Rowan’s face is hard, but his words are kind. He sweeps his daughter off of the piano bench and hugs her close, pressing a kiss to the mess of brown hair atop Thea’s head. 

“It’s all good,” Aelin tells him. Two pairs of sad, green eyes look her way, breaking her heart into a million pieces.

Rowan coughs to clear his throat, looking to Thea with a forced smile. “Want me to play your mommy’s song for you?”

Thea nods, locking her arms around his neck and snuggling close to her father. Rowan adjusts her in his arms and looks towards Aelin with an unreadable expression. 

“Uh, I’ve got to put Thea to bed, but I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?” Aelin nods numbly in response. It’s clear he’s just trying to make his exit. “But thanks for keeping her company. Have a good night.”

Aelin watches him leave the room, echoing his statement with a mumble of her own. She doesn’t know why, but tears prick at Aelin’s eyes, and everything feels so heavy. She sniffles, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Maybe she needs to go get some sleep of her own.

She could use a drink.

##  **Galathynius Inc. Announces Charity Event.**

Rhoe Galathynius is indulging in what’s left of his good bourbon when Aelin enters the study in search of a drink. Her father smiles at her when she enters, patting the open space beside him on the couch in invitation. She joins him readily, feeling small after the turn of events with Thea.

Aelin forgot for a few days about it all, about the fact that Thea lost her mother at the tender age of two. She’ll barely be able to remember Lyria when she’s older. It’s not fair. Nothing is fair.

“Here you go,” Rhoe says softly, passing his daughter a drink of her own. Aelin smiles in thanks and accepts the beverage, but she chokes on the first sip when her dad asks, “I don’t suppose you have any idea how this bottle got so low, do you?”

“Not a clue.” Once recovered, Aelin lies through her teeth. Her father knows _exactly_ what happened to all the alcohol. They share the same crooked smile.

A chuckle. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re enjoying some time with Rowan.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose, unsure of the implications of his words. Her dad senses this and explains himself with a simple shrug. “You two were always good friends. Thick as thieves, if you will. You two are happier with the other around, and you deserve that.”

Rhoe’s words don’t offer much in the way of continuing the conversation, not that Aelin thinks she wants to do that. Instead, she nods once and leaves it be. Her father isn’t as crafty as her mother; if he wanted to tell her something, he just _would._

They drink in comfortable silence for a while, and Aelin soaks up the simple alone time with her father. She doesn’t get to do this often enough, not with all the traveling and working they both do. This is the most she’s seen her parents in a while, and Aelin is very close to them. It’s been nice.

“Thanks,” she whispers into her glass. Her father turns towards her, a question in his eyes. “For the vacation. It’s—I needed it. Thanks.”

Rhoe Galathynius smiles, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder gently. “No problem, Fireheart. No problem at all.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces New Song With Mystery Guest.**


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warning for spiked/drugged drinks and lots of angst.**

##  **Aelin Galathynius has a Night on the Town.**

The Rift is loud tonight, full of patrons and VIPs and security. Dorian’s done very well for himself, Aelin thinks as she looks around the club; she can only imagine how furious that must make Havilliard Sr., to see his son succeed when he so hoped that he might fail.

Lysandra and Ansel are out with her tonight; Aelin returned to her fortress of a townhome with a heavy heart and a lonely soul. The vacation was good for her. She enjoyed all of the time with her family, being away from the thrall of Doranelle and the music industry. Unfortunately, it can’t always be like that. All too soon, it was time to pack up and go home.

Aelin misses having breakfast with everyone, listening to Thea ask a million questions and sing the words to Wendlyn’s Top 40. It must drive Rowan up the wall, that his kid has such commercial tastes. He’s always been into “unique” music. Whatever the hell that means.

“Boyfriend!” Lysandra cheers, bring Aelin’s attention back to the present. Aedion has arrived to whisk her friend home; her cousin wears a dopey smile as he gazes at his drunk girlfriend, eagerly accepting her sloppy hello kiss.

He barks a laugh at her, working to hold her upright, but Aedion’s smile is big. “Gods, you are so drunk.”

Lysandra merely smacks another over-animated kiss to his cheek, leaving behind her freshly reapplied berry lipstick. Aelin cracks a smile at the sight.

“You bet your tight ass I am!” The model has no shame. Aedion cracks a full-blown grin now; Aelin didn’t think it could get much bigger. Her heart aches for their happiness.

“ _Ugh_ ,’ Ansel groans, wearing a playful smile. “Aelin was right. You two are _so_ gross.” She waves them away, gesturing towards the front door. “Get out of here and stop making us single people feel so bad about ourselves.”

“Yeah!” Aelin chips in, thinking she sounds a lot like Thea when the little girl agrees to something without knowing what. She’s finding herself thinking about that toddler a lot these days.

Aedion raises a brow in challenge. Even Aelin can hear how totally hazed she is, but she is happy, and she isn’t alone. Shit is fantastic right now. “Get out of here with all your gross love and affection and shit.”

Ansel’s laugh is just as musical as her voice. Aelin’s new friend wraps an arm around her shoulders and lays her head atop Aelin’s. The two women beam at each other, drunken full smiles.

Lysandra’s smile is fiendish. “Well, if you keep looking at each other like that, no one else is going to think that either of you is single.”

That earns another round of laughter. Aelin wiggles her brow at Ansel suggestively, causing the other singer’s eyes to sparkle with mischief. Aelin would be lying if she said she’s never made out with another girl before.

Aedion bites back his own amusement, rolling his eyes at the lot of them, but Aelin can tell that he’d like nothing more than to join in on the revelry. He can’t risk it, though. Galathynius Industries relies solely on his public image these days. Rhoe and Evalin have stepped out of the limelight; Aelin’s celebrity status makes it both easier and more difficult for him.

She needs to throw another party. Somewhere secure and off-grid, so that she and her friends can let loose. Consequences be damned.

Ashryver eyes meet hers. “Do you two want to come with us? I can give you a ride.”

“Nah.” Aelin shakes her head no; it makes her a little dizzy. She almost can’t see her cousin properly. Ansel giggles as she watches Aelin refocus; Lysandra smirks. She’s always smirking that model. “We’re going to have another round or five, and then we’re going back to my place for a sleepover.”

Lysandra has the nerve to look offended. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

Ansel intercepts. “You _were_. But someone wanted to go home and cuddle her “super hot boy toy.””

“Oh!” Lysandra remembers, beaming at Aedion, who’s never looked more proud of himself. “That’s right!”

“Ugh, I am so not drunk enough for this,” Aelin informs the group, earning a laugh. She turns her attention on her drink, avoiding watching the couple any longer, but Aelin is only pretending to be annoyed. She’s figured out by now what this feeling really is.

Aelin is jealous.

##  **Lysandra Ennar and Aedion Ashryver Leave the Rift.**

“I have to pee,” she announces to the table, drunk and frowning at the inconvenience. The table laughs, and Aelin quickly forgets the imposition, beaming at her audience. She’s an entertainer, and Aelin loves to please people, make them laugh.

“Can you find the way on your own? Dorian asks, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. She could drown in them, Aelin thinks. It’s nothing more than a fleeting thought. Damn, he’s handsome.

“Or do you need help?” he continues, raising a brow in concern. This is why Aelin likes Dorian. For all his bravado and bad boy behavior, Dorian _cares_. And he would absolutely escort Aelin to the bathroom right now if she asked him to.

Aelin only narrows her eyes at him. The table chuckles. They’re nothing more than a king and queen holding court. “No!” She says the words petulantly, nothing more than a child feeling defensive. Dorian’s smile only grows. “You and I don’t go to bathrooms together anymore. _Remember?_ ”

For a heartbeat, Aelin worries that she’s said the wrong thing, that she’s going to hurt his feelings, but Dorian only throws his head back and laughs, clutching at his stomach as he does so. Aelin thinks that she’ll probably still be embarrassed about this exchange in the morning—she tries not to tell everyone that she has sex in bathrooms—but Dorian is laughing, and the table is smiling, so Aelin is okay with it right now.

Without another word, she hops out of the lap she’s in. Aelin doesn’t know the name of the guy, didn’t bother to learn it, but she thinks he’s cute enough to flirt with for the evening. Ansel raises a brow at her, a silent _Do you want company?_ But Aelin shakes her head no. She is perfectly capable of going to the bathroom on her own.

“Who wants another round?” Dorian’s asking, his voice fading as Aelin walks away. The table forgets about her quickly. No one is worried about Aelin anymore.

Dorian’s club is jam-packed with people tonight. Aelin has to work hard to wave her way through the crowds of people throughout the building. She’s far too drunk to do a very good job of it, so she keeps bumping into different people, laughing her way through one apology and into another.

“Fuck! I’m so drunk!” She exclaims as she collides into yet another club-goer. Aelin spins on her heel, turning to meet the eye of the person she’s just assaulted and begging for their forgiveness. “I’m so so—”

The words die in her throat. Arobynn Hamel smiles that oily smile of his, looking down at her like she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. Aelin wonders how he does it, always makes himself seem taller than everyone else. It’s an aura thing; she thinks she’d like to learn the trick.

“Hello there,” he purrs, amusement crinkles his eyes. The expression makes Aelin feel offended, despite having been thrilled to make others laugh mere moments ago. It’s just… She fucking hates this guy.

“Hey,” she responds lamely. Aelin sounds nowhere near as excited to see him as he does her. His eyes flicker across her body, and her skin goes cold. SOmething uncomfortable crawls up her spine, making her shiver. Shit, Aelin has never met a more terrifying man. He’s so fucking _creepy_.

Aelin turns to leave; she doesn’t bother to play the part. Fuck, whoever’s watching and wants to start shit. She’s outta here. “Well. Bye.”

Arobynn catches her arm as she leaves; Aelin spins around quickly, yanking her arm free from his grasp and glaring at him. His hand hovers in the air between them, and yet, still, Arobynn smiles.

“Leaving so soon?” he purrs. Aelin’s stomach threatens her. This is bold of him, she thinks. Only a man very sure of himself and his position, of his security, would ever harass a woman like this in front of everyone.

“Yeah,” she says back. Her voice is tight, short. “Nature calls. “

He smiles, the ghost of a laugh escaping his lips. Arobynn takes his time to look her up and down, and suddenly, Aelin feels very underdressed. The dress she wears this evening is glittery and dangerously short; Aelin still doesn’t know how Lysandra managed to squeeze Aelin into it. It’s that tight.

“Well, find me when you come back,” Arrobynn’s voice is conversational. To him, it’s apparent that she’ll faithfully return to him, beg for his attention. Fuck that. The last time Aelin was in the same building as this asshole, he basically assaulted her. “We should find a table and chat.”

There’s a message there, hidden in his words. His eyes tell her what he really means. What he’s really offering her. Aelin knows better than to accept drugs from this man again. “We could have some fun, you and I. Aelin.”

She wants to rip her name out of his vocabulary.

“Yeah, well, fuck that,” she blurts without considering the ramifications of irritating, yet again, this very powerful man. Arobynn’s eyes go cold. His face is made of ice.

Aelin isn’t proud when she runs for it. Whatever Arobynn is about to do or say won’t be good, and Aelin doesn’t want to be a part of it. Besides, her publicist is trying really, really hard to clean up her image.

Nesryn doesn’t get paid enough. The thought drifts into Aelin’s mind. Maybe she should give her a raise for putting up with all of Aelin’s shit.

##  **Arobynn Hamel Signs New Contract with Adarlan Records.**

“Baby!” Ansel cries, returning to the table. Her expression is happy and drunk and excited to see Aelin. “Where have you been?”

The woman’s smile splits her face, blinding Aelin. It’s easy to return her genuine happiness, and Aelin beams as Ansel reclaims her seat. Dorian and his crew appear to have wandered off, but Aelin knows that it won’t be long until they return. In their absence, the duo sing and dance in their chairs. They take pictures for social media. It’s nearly time to drop their single. Aelin is both excited and utterly terrified by the prospect.

A new single. What if the fans hate it? What if they love it? What if it’s not good enough? What if it’s _too_ good? What if she can’t top it? What if people think Ansel does better? What if it just becomes a big competition? What if, what if, what if—

“ _Girl_ , you need another drink.” Ansel interrupts her downward spiral by sliding Aelin a glass. Aelin didn’t even notice Ansel getting up from the table to fetch them. She flashes her friend a grateful smile and takes the glass.

“Sorry,” Aelin apologizes. She hasn’t managed to shake off her earlier encounter with Arobynn, but Aelin also doesn’t know how to make her excuses to get them out of this club. She flashes Ansel a self-deprecating smile. “I’m a total buzzkill right now.”

Ansel shrugs off her worries. “I totally get it,” she says. “If I’m feeling stressed out right now, I can’t even imagine how you aren’t completely flipping out. _Gods_ , I’d be under the table right now.”

The liquor burns on its way down Aelin’s throat, and she hisses, coughing a little. “Hey, a few more of these, and that’s exactly where you’re going to find me.”

The women share a troublesome smile. Ansel gives her a mock salute. “I’m on it.”

The redhead rises from the table and heads back for the bar.

##  **Aelin Galathynius and Ansel Briarcliff at the Rift.**

She’s not feeling very well, Aelin thinks as she accepts another drink from Ansel. She supposes that is what happens when they drink their weight in alcohol. Aelin flashes her companion a smile and takes a sip. People come and go from their table, and the drinks keep flowing. Aelin keeps drink. And Chaol watches her from his corner of the room with a frown marring his lovely face.

Aelin likes Chaol. She really does, but Aelin isn’t all that certain that Chaol likes _her._

It’s not a very good feeling. Worse even, when Aelin’s mind is in such a state. As much as a good drink can perk her up, like that evening with Rowan and her father’s bourbon, it can also bring her down.

Eventually, she’s dragged onto the dance floor by Ansel. Dorian appeared ever so briefly, but he’s disappeared once more. Aelin hasn’t seen the humble little brunette he was trying so desperately to flirt with either; so, she guesses that wherever they are, they’re probably together. Good for him.

The music is blaring, filling Aelin’s head with little room for thought. She dances with Ansel, and the two women definitely are causing quite the scene together. Aelin can feel the eyes of the club’s many customers on them, watching them dance and drink and enjoy themselves.

Aelin knows that their faces and fashion choices and makeup brands will be all over tomorrow’s entertainment news, but for now, Aelin doesn’t give one shit about it.

As the latest song comes to an end, the friends—is that what they are now? Are they friends?—plop into the reserved booth, saved by Dorian just for them, laughing and breathless. Aelin waves over another waiter and orders another round of drinks, and Ansel cheers with delight. The liquor is hitting her better than Aelin. That’s for sure. She’s so very drunk, and Aelin can’t help but laugh at her companion, happy to be spending an evening with company.

After so many weeks cooped up in the mountains with everyone, her townhouse felt so quiet and empty when she got home. All that Aelin could focus on was that she was alone. When Ansel called, inviting her out for drinks, Aelin was quick to say yet, despite her reservations about making a new friend.

Aelin knows that she needs to end this codependency she has. She wants to stop being so afraid of herself and her thoughts and of being alone, but Aelin doesn’t do _alone_ well. She never has, even when she was younger, even before the fame and celebrity and everyone knowing her name. Aelin likes to have someone with her. Always with her.

But she’d like to. Like to be able to stand on her own.

##  **Why Aelin Galathynius Always Has Her Security Detail With Her.**

“Are you ready to head out now?” Chaol whispers over her shoulder at one point, overstepping his bounds once more. It’s hard to fault him for it. Aelin is the one who went and blurred the lines between them, after all. One second she’s his boss, and he’s her employee, and the next, they’re lovers, tangled in the sheets. It’s complicated, and it’s Aelin’s fault.

“Nope!” Aelin shouts over the noise of the club; she pops the _p_ sound, and Chaol rolls his eyes are her behavior. “I’m having _fun_ , Chaol. Maybe you should give it a try. Have some fun; you’re always so serious.”

Aelin mocks his frown. It doesn’t appear to sway him to her side. Chaol’s expression is torn somewhere between disapproval and amusement. His copper eyes look over her shoulder for something, eyeing the crowd dancing to the music.

He turns that sober look of his, her way. “This isn’t exactly what I would consider fun.”

“That’s because you haven’t ever tried it!” she accuses, grabbing him by the lapels of the sports coat he wears. Chaol is always so well dressed. “C’mon! Dance with me!”

Chaol frowns. Gingerly, he separated her fingers from his jacket; the bodyguard studies her face carefully. Then Chaol says, “I’m working, remember? I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you?”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “You can keep an eye on me while we dance.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Aelin.” He sounds irritated with her. “And it’d be easier to do my job if you stopped coming to places like _this._ ” He shrugs his shoulders, motioning around the room. “It’s hard enough to keep track of you at your house.”

It’s definitely no secret that this is a sore spot for Aelin. She feels her mood quickly deteriorate at the reminder that she requires her security detail for a night on the town with her friends. Aelin pulls away from him, failing to suppress her scowl.

“Whatever,” she tells him petulantly. “I’m going to go dance now. See ya.”

##  **When Will Aelin’s New Album Drop?**

More dancing. More drinking. More music. At some point, Aelin thinks she winds up on stage with the DJ, but she can’t remember quite clearly. Everything keeps happening so fast; time is missing from her memory. She and her friends— _friends?_ —are having such a good night. Aelin is having a _great_ time.

But then things start to go awry.

Aelin’s head is so fuzzy, and her eyes have grown heavy. They don’t want to focus quite right, and the strobe lights bend funny around the room, blurring together and confusing her head. Gods, she’s so drunk. Maybe Chaol was right; perhaps it is time to call it quits.

She tries to call out to Ansel, to tell her that her legs feel weird, but the words don’t come out. Alarms sound off in her muddled head.

She doesn’t want to dance anymore, doesn’t think she could if she wanted to. Aelin tumbles off the dance floor and into the nearest available space. She spies the bathrooms nearby and heads that way. Gods, Aelin thinks she’s going to be sick.

Aelin crashes through the door the VIP bathroom, spinning the lock on the door, and landing on her knees. She cries out as the tile bites through her skin, moving to sit back against the wall and clear her head. Aelin knows enough to know that something is not okay with her. Gods, what’s happened? She doesn’t know.

Aelin’s blood freezes over. Her drinks. Did she watch her drinks? Not really. But Ansel was in charge of the alcohol for a better part of the evening.

No. No. Aelin trusts Ansel. Right?

She needs to find Chaol, but she could see him in the crowd. Fuck, she hates when people are right.

Someone knocks on the door; they curse foully at Aelin, at whoever it is that has dared to lock everyone else out of the fancy, private bathroom. Aelin would let them in, honestly, if she were able to reach the door at the moment. Hell, she’s not entirely convinced that her legs would hold her if she were to try to stand.

A phone chime. Aelin’s phone has gone off quite a bite throughout the evening. People are looking for her, probably. Her security is most likely frantic and looking for her. Shit, she needs to fire all of them because somehow, Aelin keeps finding herself in shit situations like this even though she pays people to _protect_ her.

This is why Chaol always gets pissy about clubs. It’s hard to keep track of her in the chaos. Still—

Another chime.

The notifications on the phone scroll on forever. Aelin used to like feeling so popular. Now it just makes her heart race, makes her nervous, uncomfortable. Unhappy. She wished people would leave her alone.

_Rowan._

His name flows through her, warming her blood with happiness. Aelin misses Rowan; she misses _Thea._ Thea would totally have a dance party with her.

“Hello?”

Aelin panics. She called him by accident. _Shit. Fuck! Dammit._

“Ace? You there?”

Her shaking hands lift the phone; she mumbles something. Aelin’s voice sounds so far away from herself. _Hey. I’m here._

”Are you okay? Where are you?” Worry takes over his voice. Rowan’s always been able to tell if there was something wrong with Aelin. As much as she loves him for it, she also kind of hates it.

_Don’t feel right._ Aelin whines, giving herself away too quickly. Rowan swears. _I went dancing._

“Aelin. Where are your friends? Chaol? Are you alone?” He sounds mad now.

“Bathroom. Feel sick.” Aelin rubs her eyes. Her legs feel like lead. Someone else is knocking on the door, banging this time. They’re mad. She’s at least a little sorry. “I’m going to puke.”

“Okay, I need you to stay where you are, okay? I’m going to call someone. Okay, Aelin?” Rowan tells her calmly. His voice is so soothing. Aelin’s eyes flutter close; she’s ready to pass out now.

“I’m going to hang up. I’ll call—“

_No_ , she thinks the words make it out of her this time. “Don’t leave. Wait ‘til I fall asleep—“

A sleuth of swear words. “Aelin, do not go to sleep.”

Voices gather outside the door. Aelin wonders just how long she’s been in here. Suddenly, Dorian’s voice cuts through the fun, and Chaol’s stern timber leaks through the wood, too.

_Open this fucking door before I kick it down._

_Dude, it’s literally open. No need to go all “special forces” on me. Always so intense._

Oh good, they’ve found her. She can go home now. Sleep.

##  **The Rift: How Dorian Havilliard Made A Safe Haven for Dornelle’s Elite.**

Aelin feels rather than sees her people approach her. Her eyes are too heavy to stay open any longer, and she’s so tired. Aelin doesn’t think her limbs have ever been this heavy. She makes a muffled protest as someone takes her phone away, but they do anyway, muttering a few words to the person on the other end.

Was she on the phone with someone? Who?

Gods, she’s such a disaster.

“Ace?” Aelin’s eyes flutter open at her nickname. The first thing she sees is Dorian’s bottomless blue eyes, dark with concern; she hears Chaol’s gruff voice complaining about something. He’s irritated again, always so annoyed with her.

Someone lifts her onto her unsteady feet; Aelin complains immediately about standing. The swears and protests fall from her mouth, jumbled together.

“Gods, what did she get into?” Dorian wonders aloud.

“We need to take her out the back.” Chaol’s voice is flat, void of emotion; he’s all business when it matters. “Do you think your people can manage to clear the way for us?”

“She needs to go to the doctor!” A voice cries.

_No. No doctors._ Aelin thinks she says.

Some barks a laugh. Another agrees. The media. They’re circling the front doors like vultures, waiting to pick at her bones; Aelin needs to get out of here without attracting attention, without another scandal. They’ll make this all her fault. She knows it.

“Wanna go home.” Her own voice sounds so far away.

“Oh, now you’re ready?” Chaol mutters into her ear. Aelin’s vaguely aware of her feet floating. Someone is carrying her; Chaol must be carrying her. “If we’d left when I asked—“

“Don’t wanna fire you,” she mumbles to him, pressing her face into his neck. “You’re a real ass. You know that?”

Chaol is silent for a while. So, Aelin thinks she must have made enough sense. “I know.”

The self-hate in his voice hurts her, and Aelin squeezes his arm to comfort the hurt. She thinks she’s holding his arm anyway.

She’s barely conscious of their trip through the club; Aelin feels it as they duck through empty halls and hide in the back office until their car pulls around to the back entrance. It’s the only way in and out of the club without the reporters seeing them. Dorian designed it specifically with people like Aelin in mind. 

They saw Aelin arrive at the Rift, but they can’t see her leave.

“Let me know when you get her home,” Dorian says as he leads them out. Chaol nods, saying he will. Aelin wonders when they became friends.

“Wait!” Aelin cries suddenly. “Ansel. She was coming with us.”

Chaol sighs. “I don’t think you need to worry about her,” he says softly. “She’s found some company. She didn’t even notice you were gone until I asked her.”

“Oh.” Aelin wonders who was so distracting.

“Arobynn Hamel,” Chaol answers carefully. Aelin must have asked the question aloud. As her security, he knows enough about how Aelin feels about the guy. “I found her at his table when I was looking for you.”

_Oh._

The turn this evening took makes a lot more sense now.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Drops New Single Next Friday!**


	36. Chapter 36

##  **Up-And-Comer Ansel Briarcliff Shares Selfie with Arobynn Hamel, Reknown Music Producer.**

Dr. Yrene Towers is _fucking_ beautiful.

Aelin has only met Dr. Towers once before; much like now, Aelin happened to be in less than stellar condition during their meeting. Gods, she certainly knows how to make a good impression. This woman must think so highly of Aelin.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Aelin tells the woman, earning a smile. Good, at least the doctor has a sense of humor. She assumes Yrene would have to if she deals with people like Dorian and Aedion; Aelin wonders which one of them tried to get into her pants. Probably both.

Aelin considers what she knows of the doctor; it isn’t terribly much, which is reasonably a good thing. It speaks well of her ability to keep a secret.

She also knows that Dr. Yrene Towers is on Dorian’s payroll—or his father’s payroll anyhow. She’s his fancy “I’m rich” doctor. Aedion does as well. In fact, the business card her cousin gave her is still sitting on her kitchen counter, haunting her and chasing her out of her own damn kitchen.

Wryly, she supposes the inconvenience has been good for her diet. Aelin has definitely cut back on the snacking in avoidance of facing her fears; she questions if maybe that isn’t such a good thing, really, that perhaps a business card shouldn’t be able to chase her out of a whole room.

“You’re pretty,” Aelin informs the doctor. She’s still a little fucked up from the events of the night before, but Chaol and Dorian—Seriously when did those two become friends?—wanted her to get checked out. Chaol called Essar, and Essar called Dr. Towers, and here they are.

Aelin hates to admit it to herself, but it’s probably for the best that the doctor looks her over. Aelin feels like shit. Her head is convulsing in time with her heart; she feels like death, but Aelin hopes that this isn’t actually what death feels like because it _sucks._

Dr. Towers laughs lightly at her, waving a flashlight into Aelin’s eyes that makes her groan. “Thank you. You’re very pretty, too.”

Like an idiot, Aelin beams. “Just wait until I get cleaned up,” she jests. Gods, sometimes she wishes she had a filter. “You won’t know what hit you.”

Yrene laughs loudly at that one, making Aelin’s smile grow. The doctor spends little more time checking over Aelin, asking a few more questions that Aelin reluctantly gives the answers to. She can’t remember a time that she’s ever been such a cooperative patient. Usually, Aelin is always lying to the doctors, telling them that her sprained and swollen knee _feels great_ or that something is _just a scratch_.

“Well,” Yrene begins, claiming a seat in one of Aelin’s immaculate white armchairs. She wishes she could take credit in this living room, but it was solely her mother’s design. Aelin did not realize how much work went into decorating a fucking house.

Yet, the look on the doctor’s face makes Aelin nervous, and her heart skips a few important beats. She holds her breath while waiting for the doctor to spill the beans. It’s terrible news; she can tell. She’s dying or some shit—

“I suspect your drink was spiked, much like you said,” Dr. Towers tells Aelin. She looks at the singer apologetically. “You said yourself that you weren’t watching your glass very carefully.”

Shame floods Aelin. Anger, as well. She rubs roughly at her face, swearing loudly. Dr. Towers smiles at Aelin softly, despite the dire circumstances.

“I gotta quit drinking,” Aelin tells herself.

Yrene tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. “That probably wouldn’t be a terrible idea. You do seem to have the worst luck when it comes to the club scene if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Aelin sighs. “You’re telling me.”

The doctor flashes another sorry smile. She looks as if she’s about to say something else when knocking sounds at the front door. It’s loud and urgent. Aelin nearly falls off the couch when she jolts, surprised; people don’t usually get to sneak up on her in her fortress of solitude.

Yet, there’s no one else here today. Aelin is staying home, so the security detail is out; Essar has the day off. Aedion and her parents haven’t been informed of the evening's events, and if Aelin has anything to say about it, they won’t ever find out.

“Well,” Yrene rises from her seat. “I guess I should be on my way now.” The woman eyes Aelin carefully once more, considering, and Aelin can practically watch the doctor check her way through her mental list of notes.

“You’ll likely be feeling pretty rough for the next few days, but then you should be good as new.” The doctor grabs her bags; the knocking continues. Someone is feeling rather impatient; Aelin can’t wait to tell them off.

"I'll let you get that," Yrene says to her. "But I'll call in a day or so to follow up."

"Thanks," Aelin says, ruffling the short ends of her hair. She definitely regrets cutting it already, but the good news is that Aelin’s hair has always grown quickly. She's already talking to Manon about changing the color.

_You know if you keep this up, it'll fall out, right?_ The stylist told her, hostile as ever.

Aelin merely told her that she'd just buy a wig. Manon's laughter came as a surprise; they were going to be friends, Aelin thinks. Manon and her.

##  **The Clock Counts Down to the Next Aelin Galathynius Single.**

Aelin lets Yrene out the private exit, ignoring her guest waiting for her at the front door. She swears that if it’s Lorcan come to moan about Elide again then he better have come with coffee. She looks through the door to see who’s waiting for her; it surprises her.

Rowan’s face is all hard lines and worry—anger, too. He glares at the door as if he can see right through the wood and into her guilty face. Aelin wonders who ratted her out.

Another knock. Then: “Dammit, Aelin. Answer the door before I knock one of these assholes out. I’m a parent now; I’m not supposed to do that shit anymore. Think of Thea.”

Aelin suppresses a sigh before answering the door quickly. She’s feeling rather sorry for herself as it is; she’s not particularly in the mood to talk about it with anyone, much less Rowan. Aelin wishes it were Lorcan, armed with coffee and his feelings instead of hers.

Also, she looks like shit, and Aelin _really_ doesn’t want to look like shit in front of Rowan. Why can't he ever be around when she looks fucking hot? His timing is the worst.

“Uh, hey,” Aelin says, feeling awkward as she waves him in. “I wasn’t, uh, expecting you today.”

Rowan looks unimpressed with her; she lets him in, closing the door firmly behind him and locking out the craziness of the outside world. Aelin’s been too afraid to check the news about her night out on the town. Nesryn will likely provide her a recap later today.

She watches Rowan march into her townhouse, confused by his behavior. Her friend is clearly pissed off about something, and she expects it's not simply the paparazzi outside that has him all worked up. She wonders what it is.

Aelin also questions the absence of Thea. She’s surprised he’d miss the chance to bring his daughter over to play with Fleetfoot as promised; the dog has missed her friend following the vacation in the mountains. Yet, their schedules have yet to match up. Until now.

“Hey?” Rowan asks; his face is the picture of incredulity. “ _Hey?_ ” He half shouts, surprising Aelin. “What the _fuck_ , Aelin?”

Aelin pales. “What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know why I’m mad.” Rowan’s eyes are full of fire; Aelin can’t help the thought that she needs some sleep before she’s able to deal with this. There’s no telling what Aelin did last night to piss him off, besides the obvious. 

Yet, his anger at her, like this, is unlike him. Typically, Rowan’s anger is ice cold, and Aelin has to force the emotion out of him to get him to talk about it. He’s never the first one to start yelling; that’s Aelin.

“Seriously?” Rowan scoffs. It’s a horrible harsh sound that Aelin hopes to never hear from him again. It hurts her better and faster than anything he could say. She stares at him, mouth hanging open until realization fills his eyes.

Aelin is speechless. She doesn’t know what’s just happened, but she suspects it’s got something to do with her idiocy last night.

_Drinking_. She needs to stop drinking.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Rowan’s voice is whisper-soft, but his temper is still there, lingering in his words.

Dread tickles the hairs on the back of her neck. “Remember what?”

Another harsh laugh. Rowan has to look away from her; he stares into space for a beat, before turning that piercing gaze of his back on her. Aelin is startled by the fact that her first thought is how _green_ his eyes are when he’s mad.

“You don’t remember,” he repeats, a confirmation, but Aelin can tell he’s mostly talking to himself. He looks to his feet, then back at her. “You called me at 3AM this morning fucking out of your mind on _gods_ know what—” He laughs, the sound hysteric. “—and then Dorian _Havilliard_ picks up the phone after you stop answering to tell my sorry ass not to worry because they’ve found you.”

Aelin flinches. Rowan doesn’t miss it, going in for the kill. “They _found you!?_ ”

“Oh,” she says, shamed. Aelin’s mind races as she tries to recall the phone call. Most of what she can remember of the night is nothing more than a blur to her, and the rest of it, a terrifying majority of the evening, is blank.

Aelin remembers going to the club with Lysandra and meeting Ansel at their private table. She remembers the first few rounds of drinking, can recall Aedion showing up and offering to take her home, too, but the rest—there’s nothing there.

She tries to pretend that it doesn’t fucking terrify her. Yet, the truth is, that she’s freaking out about it. Chaol told her that they found her in the bathroom, where she’d locked herself inside.

Aelin was too afraid to ask the question on her mind, but Chaol has gotten to know her well enough from their time together. He saw right through her stoic expression and assured her quietly that nothing had happened to her. That she was dressed and sleeping on the bathroom floor.

_You said you were hiding from the paparazzi_ , Chaol told her when they were alone.

“What are you doing to yourself?” Rowan’s voice brings her back to the present, to his eyes on her face, and her heart back in her throat. Gods, she doesn’t want to cry right now. That would really just seal the deal on a horrible 24 hours.

He runs his hands through his hair, avoiding eye contact with Aelin. “I-I know that you like to party. It was our number one pastime during the Cadre days, all of us, but—”

Rowan covers his face with his hands, drags his fingers up into his hair to make the ends stand at odd angles. Aelin is hit with the sudden urge to fix it, smooth it back, and apologize to him. It’s both inappropriate and bad timing.

“I’m—“ _Sorry_ doesn’t seem like enough. Tears burn her eyes.

“I know you are,” he says softly, but Rowan’s voice quickly turns hostile again. Aelin isn’t able to beat the instinct to cross her arms over her chest in protection. “But, you gotta quit this shit, Aelin. It’s gotten out of hand.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she hisses.

Rowan locks his jaw, standing up straighter at the sound of her challenge. This is how they used to fight, back in the early days of the Cadre; they’d hiss and spit at each other like a couple of feral cats until someone stepped in, told them to shove it.

“Someone sure as hell needs to,” he growls. “Seeing as how everyone in your circle these days is _literally paid_ to do whatever the fuck you say.”

The words sting and Aelin has to look away from him. Still, she just her chin out in defiance. Aelin isn’t going to let him make her feel bad about this. “I have friends.”

“Yeah?” That bitter laugh of his. “Where the fuck are they then? Where were they when you were fucking passed out in a bathroom? Huh, Aelin?”

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes as Rowan spits back all of her insecurities and worries in her face, lays her bare. Aelin can’t look at him or else she’ll lose it.

“Where was the _boyfriend_ —”

“Fuck. You.” Aelin hisses, shoving at his chest. She doesn’t know when Rowan got so close to her, but she wants him as far away from her now as physically possibly. “You don’t get to do this.” She shoves at his chest again; Rowan hardly moves. “You don’t get to come here and judge me for how I’m dealing with my shit. The partying—”

“But you don’t keep yourself safe,” Rowan interrupts, catching her by the wrists this time. Aelin growls, yanking her hands back to herself and backing away from him. Rowan steps after her, pleading. “I know why you do all this shit, Aelin. Fuck—c’mon, you know I do, but—”

He pauses, choking on his words. “Fuck, Aelin. Do you have any idea what it was like for me last night? When I got your call?”

That catches Aelin off guard. She hadn’t stopped to think about him, consider how it must have felt for Rowan to get (another) call in the middle of the night and find out Aelin was in trouble. Guilt floods her veins, extinguishes her anger and frustration with him.

“Rowan,” she says his name, searching for the right words. Aelin hates how small and broken her voice sounds, and the tears are quick to catch up with her. “I’m sorry. You must hate me—”

“ _Hate you_?” Rowan gasps the words. Her tears seem to have chased away his anger, too. “Why in the world do you think I hate you?”

“Because—” She sniffles, and it makes Aelin feel like such a fucking fool that it only makes the crying harder for her to keep at bay. “—I’m just such a fuck up, and all I do is drag everyone into my shit. Drag _you_ into it.”

Aelin has to look away from him; Rowan’s expression is too intense, too much for her to deal with. “You have enough going on in your own life; I don’t need to keep bringing you down with me. I—”

“Ae—”

“One of my ‘friends’ drugged me last night. At least I think it was one of them. It doesn't matter; both theories suck. I just—” Another pitiful hiccup. “I’m sorry that I keep pulling you into my drama like this. I promise that I won’t let it happen anymore.”

Rowan is quiet for so long that Aelin has no choice but to look at him and risk meeting his eye; it’s the only way she has to read his expression. Rowan’s eyes burn as he asks, “Who do you think did it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him, sticking with her promise to keep him out of her melodrama. “I’ve got it taken care of. I’m just planning on staying the hell away from everyone from now on. So—”

“Including me?” The ice in his voice surprises Aelin; she blinks at him. Rowan’s face is a blank mask.

“What?” She wonders.

A long pause. “Are you going to stay away from me?”

_Oh._ Aelin gets it now, the guarded look in his eye. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, to try and shake the vulnerability in her voice, but she still sounds small when she replies to him. She just barely manages to meet his eye.

“If you want me to, then I’ll totally get it.” It’ll _destroy_ her, but Aelin will understand. Rowan isn’t required to suffer with her. “I’m pretty much the eye of a fucking hurricane on a good day, so if you want to get the hell away from all of that, I won’t blame you.”

The time that Rowan is silent is perhaps the longest moment of Aelin’s life. His voice is rough when he responds; he holds her gaze. “No, I’d like to stick around—if that’s okay with you, of course.”

“Yeah?” She hates that she sounds so small. Aelin smiles weakly at him, her heart racing with elation. Aelin was nearly positive that Rowan was going to politely step away from all of this. It’s only been a few months since that day on the bridge, and Aelin’s life has been pretty much hell ever since. Since before, even.

Yet, Aelin would pretty much do anything for Rowan. And the guy has no idea.

“Yeah.” Rowan smiles at her, tender and sweet. He closes the distance between them quickly, all their anger at each other soon forgotten; Aelin is much too eager to press into his warm chest and soak up the strength he’s offering her.

Rowan Whitethorn gives the best hugs.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Visited Dorian Havilliard at the Rift Last Night...**

They hang onto each other for a long time. Eventually, Rowan breaks the magic, telling her, “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m starting to learn that when I’m scared, I yell, and you scared the shit out of me last night, Ace.”

She sighs into her chest, soaking up his warmth. “I’m sorry; I was scared, too.” Rowan moves to rest his head atop hears; pressed into his chest like this, Aelin feels brave enough to keep speaking. “Whatever they gave me last night, really messed me up. I’m missing a lot of time... not just calling you.”

Rowan’s body goes stiff with tension.

“Tell me who.” The tone of his voice is exactly why Aelin has no plans of doing such a thing; the last time Arobynn and Rowan were in a room together, there was blood and cops. It was a thing; she’d like not to repeat it.

And Ansel… Aelin really wants to believe that it wasn’t her. Gods, she hopes Ansel had nothing to do with. Either way, Aelin needs to solve this mess herself. She needs to stop depending on others to fix her problems.

“No, I’ve got it covered,” she tells him softly, firmly. “Thanks, though.”

She can practically feel the hesitation in his bones. Rowan is a protector; he wants to keep everyone safe and solve everyone’s problems. Unfortunately, his instincts also work directly against Aelin's goals of independence. 

She loves him for it, though.

The thought comes unbidden, twisting her stomach and speeding her pulse. Aelin is so screwed.

“I’m here if you need me,” he says. Aelin thinks it causes him actual pain to step aside. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Aelin says, and she means it. She lets herself soak up the moment a little bit longer before pulling away. She sniffles again, and then she grins, pulling the mask back into place. Aelin knows Rowan can see through it, but the bravado makes her feel better.

“So,” Aelin says, avoiding those soft green eyes. “Where’s my kid at?”

“You’re kid…” Rowan echoes, clearly confused.

Aelin fights not to laugh at him, rolling her eyes and setting her hands on her hips. “Yeah, my kid—or Fleetfoot’s kid if that dog’s got any say in the matter.” She flashes him a smile. “She’s about this high.” Aelin demonstrates with her hand. “Curly brown hair—about a million times cuter than you.”

“You think I’m cute?” he retorts. There’s a funny smile fighting his lips, and Aelin thinks that Rowan’s ears might be the slightest bit pink. Maybe it’s just in her head, though.

“What?” Aelin struggles to find a way to cover her tracks. “I mean—you know— _shut up_.”

Rowan laughs at her fumbling. Fuck, she’s totally blushing. Gods, she wishes he would smile more.

Aelin listens as Rowan explains that Thea is with her grandparents. It’s a little disappointing; she’s really missed that kid, but it also means that Aelin gets to spend some one-on-one time with Rowan. She’s definitely looking forward to it.

They’re both pretty quiet as they make themselves at home in the living room. Aelin is pleased when Rowan chooses to sit beside her, and it’s such a silly middle school like feeling that Aelin has to hide her smile for fear of embarrassing her. She’s so screwed.

They turn on the television, using it to fill the quiet as they spend time together. They’re both too emotionally drained to deal with small talk, but that’s never really been their thing anyway. Aelin had forgotten what it was like to just enjoy the silence with someone. 

It feels a little like old times.

##  **Ansel Briarcliff Shares Photo, Poses with Supermodel Lysandra Ennar and Recording Artist Aelin Galathynius.**


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for your comments (good or bad). I see them all, and I appreciate them. I'm sorry I'm terrible about responding. ♥️ I've gotten so far behind that I feel weird about responding now. But thank you all for reading. ♥️

##  **Evalin Galathynius Announces Dates for Annual Charity Event.**

Aelin must doze off on the couch, but when she wakes up, Rowan is still there, scowling at the station he’s turned on. Her legs have found their way into his lap as she slept, but Rowan seems unbothered. Just as he seems totally oblivious to how she watches him now, drinking in the sight of his profile. A straight, strong nose. Full lips.

_Gods_ , he’s only gotten more attractive with time.

“If you’re done staring at me,” Rowan says without looking at her. “Do you feel up to eating something?”

Aelin flushes, heat floods her cheeks and her neck. That’s embarrassing

Rowan does her the service of pretending not to notice. “You have a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen, Aelin.” He mouth curls on one side in amusement; it’s no secret that Aelin is not a cook. “I made us some soup; it should be about done.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

Aelin is only pretending to be annoyed, of course; she’s very thankful for Rowan and his mothering. It touches her that he cares enough to make sure she’s fed, to stay with her while she sleeps. His green eyes light up in offense.

“Um, excuse me. I go by “Daddy”—” he skillfully mimics Thea’s little voice, the inflection in her not-yet perfected speech "—these days.”

“Kinky,” Aelin remarks without thinking ahead. She flushes more; Rowan looks both horrified and amused by the statement. She can’t help but laugh, speaking through the words. “Sorry; I regretted it as soon as the word left my mouth.”

Rowan bites back a smile, but he quickly changes the topic. Color dusts the back of his neck as he rubs is, suddenly sheepish. “Don’t make fun of me. You know, I cook when I don’t know how to make things better. So, I made us lunch. Are you hungry or not?”

Fondness overcomes her, and Aelin has the sudden urge to just… hug him.

She snaps herself out of it. “I’m fucking starving,” she says as she stretches out on the couch. Aelin catches Rowan watching her and raises a brow. “What?”

He looks away too quickly. “Nothing. Let’s go eat.”

##  **_Blood Oath_** **by Vaughan Phillips For Sale Now.**

Aelin eats her weight in the soup that she finds in her kitchen. She’s never had the ability to look at a few ingredients and create a whole meal, but give the girl a couple of chords and Aelin can write one hell of a song.

Rowan’s always been a great cook. It’s nice to know that hasn’t changed with time. The soup soothes her upset stomach, and after the first bowl, Aelin finds herself feeling better by the minute. Rowan hovers, mothering her by giving her more water or food.

She can tell he’s think hard over something, but Rowan’s yet to share any of those deep thoughts with her. He hasn’t poked or prodded for more information, even though Aelin can _feel_ that he really wants to. No, he’s kept it all to himself, locked away in the impenetrable mind of his. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, you know,” Aelin says into her second bowl of soup. She’s far too nervous to say the words while looking him in the face, but at the same time, Aelin can’t help looking up, trying to read Rowan’s reaction. She wants to know how he feels about it.

“Who?” Rowan’s voice is careful, like he’s walking on ice. Aelin rolls her eyes at him, feeling a little bolder. She should have known it’d be hard to get anything out of him, but she had to try.

“Whoever you’ve assumed is my boyfriend,” she continues, “but I’m guessing you meant Chaol.” A pause. She hates how good Rowan is at a poker face; Aelin just wants to know what he’s thinking. “Right?”

“Oh,” Rowan says softly. At some point, he started tidying up her kitchen; the business card lingers on the island, but neither of them mentions it.

“Yeah,” he sighs the word, drying his hands. Aelin thinks he’s trying to keep himself busy, like he’s nervous. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I was being such an asshole.”

“You were,” Aelin agrees, earning a surprised laugh from Rowan. She pauses, spooning some more soup into her mouth; now that’s she started eating, she’s starving. “But I’ll forgive you one one condition.”

Rowan arches a brow at her, a smile playing at his lips. Aelin points the spoon at him, sayings, “I’ll forgive you _if_ you forgive me for being such a disaster of a person.”

“You’re not a disaster,” he argues. The words fall quickly from his lips. Aelin shoots him a look, and Rowan’s face twists into exasperation. 

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

##  **Father-Daughter Date: A Rare Sighting of The Cadre’s Rowan Whitethorn with Daughter Thea.**

Aelin is feelings a bit more confident by the time they return to the couch; she lays her feet in his lap on purpose, snuggling back into her blanket and getting comfortable. Rowan scoffs, rolling his eyes in mock-annoyance, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around her calf, the searing heat of his hand burning Aelin through her leggings. 

The weight of his hand is a comfort despite the way it makes her heart beat a little fast; Aelin falls asleep before she even knows what’s happening.

The next time she wakes up, it’s because Rowan has moved from his spot on the couch with her. His smile is soft and apologetic as he returns her feet to the cushion. Aelin frowns at him, still half-asleep, as her mind tries to process what’s happening. She wonders where he’s off to; she was having such a good nap.

“Thea’s grandparents will be bringing her back soon,” he explains with a whisper, collecting his things. Aelin’s mind struggles to return to the present. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I feel great,” she tells him, sitting up quickly. She regrets the decision right away as the movement makes her sick, causing her vision to spin. Her head starts to pound, and she groans.

“ _Shit_. You can strike that from the record.” Aelin rests her face in her hands. “I feel awful.”

Rowan looks hesitant to leave her. “I can go get Thea and come back if you want.” He offers the suggestion earnestly, but then he thinks it over. “She probably won’t be the best for that headache, though. Not once she and Fleetfoot reunite.”

Aelin smiles at the thought of the little girl. Yet, she knows he’s right. There’s no way Aelin has it in her right now to handle the noise of those two, and her inability to inconvenience him keeps her from accepting, anyway. Aelin has already taken up Rowan’s kid-free time.

“Nah,” she tells him, snuggling back into her spot on the couch. As long as she doesn’t sit upright, she feels fine. “I got it from here, Buzzard. Tell the kid I said hello, though.”

At this rate, the wrinkle in Rowan’s forehead is going to become permanent, Aelin thinks. He pulls out his phone as he asks, “Should I call someone to keep you company? Lorcan is probably free.”

“I can handle a hangover, Ro,” she tells him, fondly exasperated. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“That does not make me feel better,” he says flatly. Rowan seems to come to a decision. “I’ll call Lor.”

Aelin groans. “ _Please_ don’t do that.”

Rowan raises a brow in question.

“Elide was in town this week,” Aelin explains, covering her face with a throw pillow. “I needed her help laying down a track, and I’m positive that he’s done something idiotic by now. I’m emotional enough as it is right now; I don’t need his moody ass lurking around my house.”

A laugh escapes Rowan unbidden. It surprises both of them. Aelin smiles; she forgot how much she likes making Rowan laugh.

“Lorcan’s got a crush, huh?” he says, thinking aloud. Realization dawns on his face. “Is that the girl he can’t shut up about? The guitarist?”

“It’s way more than a crush. Lorcan’s, like, _in love_ with her.” Aelin exaggerates, waving her hands around. “He’s even more miserable and grouchy because of it. He just keeps striking out.”

“Well, shit.” Rowan looks awed; amusement dances at his lips, the hint of a smile. “Now I _have_ to call him. You can’t leave the poor guy all alone.”

“I hate you,” Aelin hisses at him, voice lacking any real heat. Rowan laughs again, smiling from ear to her. She points threateningly at the front door. “Get outta my house.”

Rowan only rolls his eyes. “Talk to you later, Ace.”

##  **Stories from the Old Days! The Moonbeam Brothers Spill About Rowan Whitethorn’s Addiction to Skittles, That Aelin Galathynius Sings in Her Sleep, and More!**

Within the hour, one Lorcan Salvaterre bursts through her back door, crashing into the mudroom and swearing a string of oaths as he attempts to punch in the right security code. Aelin groans from her nest on the couch, listening as he mutters to himself.

“Shit! Wrong one.” Aelin imagines he’s scrolling through that phone of his, trying to find the right passcode. Gods know why she decided to give him access to any of her homes—she hates him. She hates everything right now. Fuck, her head hurts.

“Ah! There we go!” The beeping stops. Fleetfoot yips at Lorcan. “Hey, doggo. Where’s your human?”

Aelin scowls from her spot on the couch as he enters the room. Lorcan grins at the sight of her, and she can tell he’s about to say something particularly shitheaded.

“Dude, _fucking napping here_ ,” she hisses at her friend before he can get whatever he was about to say out.

But Lorcan’s smile fails. In fact, he almost looks as if he’s about to apologize to Aelin; it sets off alarms in her mind. This isn’t Lor’s usual grumpy mood at all.

“What’s up?” Aelin asks, worried about him. Her friend’s shoulders drop right away, and Aelin connects the dots. She _knew_ it.

A loud, resigned sigh escapes Lorcan as he flops unceremoniously onto her couch; Aelin just barely moves her feet in time. She eyes Lorcan, watching as he rubs at his face, groans into his fingers. He pulls his hair.

“That bad, huh?” she asks, nudging his thigh with her toe.

“So bad,” he concurs, nodding. “I got left on read. Like— _shit._ ”

Aelin has never seen Lorcan pursue a woman the way that he does Elide, and it certainly doesn’t help matters that Elide is utterly unaffected by his swagger. The spunky guitarist is able to unravel Lorcan’s bravado with just a few words alone. It seems as if Elide has done nothing but turn Lorcan’s life upside down from the day that Aelin introduced the pair. 

Truthfully, Aelin kind of loves watching their bickering; however, she knows that each failed attempt to woo Elide leaves Lorcan just that much more insane. She winces; Aelin definitely feels a little guilty about it. So, she’s going to let him rant and rave all he wants. Lorcan would certainly do the same for her.

“Well?” She says, prodding him again with her foot. “What stupid shit did you say?”

Lor glares at her. “Why does it have to be that _I_ said something stupid?”

“Because that’s what it always is.” Aelin fights her smile. “C’mon, I know you texted her to try and hang out.” Lorcan looks offended at the assumption, but Aelin stops his protests with a hand. “I know you well enough to know you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Lorcan grumbles something under his breath inaudible. Aelin takes it as confirmation; she grins at her foolish friend. 

“So,” she continues, nudging him with her foot in between words. “I told you Elide was coming into town to record with me, and you…”

Aelin trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. Lorcan scowls while saying, “I told her to get her mean ass out of my city.”

Briefly, Aelin thinks that her friend is kidding, but when Lorcan’s unhappy expression holds, she slaps a hand to her face. “Gods! How are you so _bad at this?_ You get laid all of the time, but you can’t even get this girl to get coffee with you.”

And then Aelin’s mind connects the dots; she gapes at Lorcan, who stares steadfast at the television screen, angry at everything.

“That’s it, huh?” she says; everything makes so much more sense now. “You know how to get a girl to _sleep_ with you, but you don’t know how to get one to _date you_.”

“I can get dates,” Lor defends himself to quickly, crossing his arms and refusing to look at Aelin. “I get dates all of the time.”

“Going to their place to fuck doesn’t count,” Aelin tells him flatly. “Nor does their coming to yours. That’s a booty call, Lorcan. _Hellas_ , everything makes so much more sense now! You, like, really fucking like her, huh? Like, a lot _a lot_?”

Lorcan won’t look at Aelin. She waits patiently for as long as she can, but just as she’s about to give up and hit him, he meets her eye. Aelin doesn’t think that she’s ever seen her grouchy, arrogant friend ever look so vulnerable.

“Yeah, Ace.” His voice is small. “I really do.”

Aelin doesn’t know what to say to that; teasing him further just wouldn’t be right. Instead, she shifts in her seat, taking the spot closest to Lorcan and wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Lorcan pretends to be irritated with her affection, grunting in disapproval as she squeezes him tightly and rests her head on his shoulder, but Aelin can tell that he isn’t actually bothered by it. Soon, he sighs deeply, curling an arm around her and holding her close.

##  **Lorcan Salvaterre Makes Surprise Appearance on** _ **Moonbeams**_ **with Former Bandmates.**

“You should just tell her,” Aelin says. They’ve been sitting on the couch together for a while now. Aelin has tried to leave well enough alone, but she just can’t. Lorcan goes stiff beside her, and she sighs. 

“Seriously. Just tell her how you feel,” Aelin explains. “Trust me.”

“Why in the world would I do that?” Lorcan exclaims.

The loud rumble of his voice makes Aelin wince; her head is feeling better than before, but it still hurts. Aelin shoots Lorcan a glare, no small feat in their position, to tell him just how much of an idiot she thinks he is.

“ _Because_ , Elide will finally realize that you’re not an ass—not completely, anyway.” Aelin’s tone suggests that the explanation is obvious. “Plus, she’ll know then that you’re just a big idiot who doesn’t know how to express your _feelings_.”

Her friend returns her judgmental stare, looking down at her, where she still lies against his chest. “That’s pretty hypocritical of you, Ace,” he says, his voice rumbling against her ear. “Don’t you think?”

“Huh?” Aelin replies, sitting up to get a better look at him. Lorcan rolls his eyes at her, but he’s quick to explain himself, cutting right to the chase.

“You and Rowan.” He raises a brow. “Don’t you think you should take a bit of your own advice?”

“Oh,” she says softly. “Yeah, probably.”

Lorcan blinks; he looks awfully surprised by her honestly. Then he narrows his eyes at her. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Aelin’s reply is fast, and Lorcan shoots her a look. His expression tells her that he doesn’t believe her at all. She groans. “Look—I’m pretty sure I’m still in love with the guy. So, that sucks.”

Her fingers find her hair out of habit, running through the short length of it to soothe her nerves. Immediately, she’s reminded that she’s cut it all off. Aelin regrets the decision; she misses being able to play with it when she gets nervous.

“But, like, his _wife just died_. It feels wrong to be making a move right now,” she explains, unable to meet Lorcan’s eye. “Like I’m taking advantage of his grief or some shit. It’s super fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

When Lorcan doesn’t say anything, Aelin looks at him curiously. She can practically see the words burning on the tip of his tongue.

“What?” she prompts, impatiently. If Lorcan is going to judge her, Aelin would like for him to get it over with.

He clears his throat before speaking. “Uh. Well, I think you should talk to Rowan, Ace. I know, I know—” He holds his hands out in surrender. “—it’s exactly as fucked as you said it was, but—” He swallows. Lorcan looks uncomfortable. “You two have been dancing around each other for- _fucking_ -ever. Just show him your hand. See what happens.”

Aelin blinks at Lorcan, surprised by his depth. Their friendship typically consists of bickering in the form of an evasive technique; it’s rare that the two of them delve into the hard stuff together. It’s actually kind of nice, Aelin thinks.

“ _And_ you’re going to tell me the name of whatever fucker spiked your glass last night,” Lorcan says, sternly; his voice is nothing more than a promise of death. He cuts her off when Aelin begins to protest. “I know you know who did it, or you at least have an idea. Vaughan and I have plans.”

Aelin groans and covers her face with her hands. She sounds utterly exasperated when she asks, “Could all of you guys stop being so… _guy-like_?”

Lor makes a face.

“Not everyone has to rally together to beat up someone who did me wrong,” Aelin explains to him. She’s suddenly very upset about this, suddenly realizes why she struggles so much to do things on her own. “Besides, that’s a really long fucking list, and we’d all be in jail in no time.”

“Ace—”

“No, really.” Aelin can’t stop herself now; the words just spill from her lips. It’s like now that she’s noticed, now that she’s seen how she lets everyone take care of her, Aelin can’t unsee it, can’t leave it be.

“Everyone is always trying to protect me, and I appreciate that, really, but you know, sometimes I gotta stand up for myself.” Aelin looks to Lorcan, praying that he understands; the drummer is quiet for a bit, but he nods eventually.

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “But I still wanna fucking murder whoever did it.”

Aelin’s shoulders fall, and she ducks her head, feeling very small as she admits, “I’m pretty sure it was Ansel.”

Lor’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Yeah, she was the one in charge of the alcohol last night,” Aelin tells him. “I was… being stupid. Clearly. I didn’t pay attention to what was going on because I just wanted to get—” She waves her hands. “—lost in it.”

She flashes him a sheepish smile. “So, Ansel was in charge of the drinks, so I just trusted her, and…”

Aelin groans. Lorcan swears.

“Is it, like, violating some code—” Lorcan uses air quotes around the word, and Aelin has to roll her eyes at him. “—if I go and beat her ass? Like, I know you’re going to handle it all on your own. Blah, blah.” He waves his hands in a gesture of dismissal. “But, I’m just saying, I will absolutely fight a girl.”

The blonde breaks into a smile at that. “You’re a good friend, Lor. You that?”

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he barks, sounding awfully confident in himself. “Now where’s that food Rowan left; all these _feelings_ have left me fucking starving.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Live Now!**

“Hey, guys!” Aelin smiles happily into the camera, eyes bright and makeup flawless. Manon is good at what she does. “Welcome to my home!”

Instinct still tells her to wait for a response, but Aelin isn’t video chatting with anyone in particular. She’s streaming the introduction of her single—the one with Ansel. 

Originally, Aelin planned to invite the woman over, so that she could be in the video as well, but the last thing Aelin wants is to have Ansel in her house right now. Petty, maybe. But Aelin doesn’t need Ansel to sell this song.

“So, as you all are probably aware,” Aelin laughs, forever awkward in the face of publicity, “I have a new song coming out in about two minutes. If you didn’t know, then—SURPRISE.

“Anyway, we’ve managed to do a pretty good job of keeping it a secret, but I figure now is as good a time as any to break the news.” She smiles at the phone screen, watching the time. Aelin has a tendency to babble, but she needs to cut out before midnight.

“It’s a song about some of my personal struggles,” Aelin tells the audience at home. “I’m sure it will be easy for you all to pick out the meanings. It’s not like I keep very many secrets, am I right?”

Another laugh. Essar motions for her to move it along and Aelin just resists the glare she wants to send her assistant’s way.

“The title of my newest single is _Rain on Me,”_ she says, adding, _“_ featuring Ansel Briarcliff.”

Aelin thinks she manages to hide the bitterness in her tone. Gods, she hopes she doesn’t sound catty; that’s the last thing anyone needs—another female “feud” in the music industry.

“I hope you guys enjoy it,” she checks the time. “It’s out... now.”

She wiggles her fingers at the camera. “Bye.”

##  **New Aelin Galathynius Single,** _ **Rain on Me,**_ **Out Now!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could probably cut the middle chunk out, but I’ve decided we needed some laughter this round. So, we’ve got a little ACOTAR cameo.

##  **Fenrys and Connall Moonbeam: Rockers turn Youtube Streamers.**

The fallout from the “incident” is about what Aelin expects. Reports in the media spin the tale of part-girl Aelin Galathynius, back to her old ways and enjoying the summer in her usual fashion. There’s not a whisper in the wind that tells the truth—no spiked drinks or sneaking out of clubs or doctor visits.

Yet, Aelin can’t decide if that’s better or not. Would they believe her if she told them her side of the story? If she told them all the truth about what happened that evening? About who did it?

No, Aelin thinks bitterly to herself. She doesn’t think they would.

“ _Aelin Galathynius_ ,” Fenrys purrs as he swings open the door to his apartment. He wiggles his blonde eyes suggestively, a troublesome smile playing at his lips. “You look good, my love.”

It’s hard not to return his grin. “My love?” she asks, mocking him. “What year is this?”

Connall’s groan is audible from the next room, and Aelin laughs at his apparent annoyance with his brother. Honestly, she’s surprised that the twin’s still live together; she thought they would have murdered each other by now. Aelin would definitely have killed Aedion by now, and he’s not even her _actual_ brother.

“Please, for the love of the gods, don’t encourage him,” the dark-haired brother begs. Connall peaks out from the backroom, glaring at Fenrys. “He’s been watching _Pride and Predijuce_ , again. You know how he gets.”

Aelin shoots the blonde an offended look. “Without me?”

Fenrys’s eyes sparkle with delight at Aelin’s words, but Connall says something foul under his breath before retreating back from whence he came. She laughs, loud and happy; she’s missed these two idiots.

“You know I’m _always_ willing to watch Mr. Darcy take a moonlit stroll,” Fenrys assures Aelin. “We can play it again later.”

“It’ll be miserable for you,” Connall assures Aelin, reappearing with his computer and frowning. The woman can’t decide if the man is frowning because of them or at whatever is on his screen. “He knows all of the words—recites them as the movie plays.”

Aelin turns her surprised gaze on Fenrys; he only looks a little embarrassed. He shrugs it off quickly, though. “What can I say? I love that fucking movie.”

“I’m not judging,” Aelin promises, grinning from ear to ear.

Connall disagrees. “I am. Completely.”

The brothers share a frown with each other, and Aelin watches them fondly. They seem to come to a decision to move on, each looking her way curiously. Connall’s expression is serious—somber, even; while Fenrys just flashes her that mischievous smile of his again.

Aelin becomes nervous. She eyes them skeptically. “Okay, assholes. What are you two up to? Your text was cryptic as it is,” she tells Fenrys with a raised eyebrow. “Now, you two weirdos are being— _weird_.”

His smile reaches his eyes, but it’s Connall that speaks, “We’ve done something.”

“Oh, god.” Aelin prepares for the worst.

Fenrys rolls his eyes. “He’s been spending too much time with Vaughan. _Writers_.”

Aelin gets distracted from her worries at the thought of Vaughan; she needs to give their broody bassist-turned-author a call.

The blonde twin shrugs, waving off Aelin’s concerns; he holds his hands out in supplication. “I promise we’ve done nothing bad,” Fenrys swears; then he reconsiders. “Well, not yet anyway.”

“That… doesn’t make me feel any better,” she responds. “C’mon. How much trouble are we in? Do I need to call a lawyer? Rip it off—bandaid style.”

Fenrys shivers. “Ouch. I hate that shit.”

Aelin sighs, exasperated. “Spit it out, Fen, before I break that pretty little nose of yours.”

He makes a horrified expression.“You would _never_.”

“I’ve always wanted to be prettier than you,” she warns.

“I’ve missed you, Ace.” Connall smiles at last. His brother, however, is unamused. Fenrys huffs an irritated breath, unhappy to have his fun taken away so quickly. Aelin rolls her eyes, sharing a knowing look with Connal.

“We’re starting a record label,” Fenrys informs her, crossing his arms and frowning at Aelin like she’s kicked his puppy. “A little birdie told us you might be on the hunt for a new one—”

“—That’s not to say, we’re trying to steal you or anything,” Connall interrupts, sheepish. “We know that you’re Miss Big-Shot and that you could make a _shit_ ton of money signing with Adarlan again; however—”

“—He’s a fucking asshole!” Fenrys hisses. “We don’t like him. He’s a fucking—”

“—asshole.” Connall repeats, shrugging as his brother glares at him. “So, we’re wondering what your plans are.” He wiggles his fingers at Aelin ominously, nothing more than a witch hovering over her crystal ball, and Fenrys cracks a laugh. “If you’re shopping around for deals—”

“—We’re totally trying to steal you,” Fenrys admits, interrupting his brother. “But, if you say no, we’d get it. We barely know what we’re doing, and you could probably get a lot of money from someone else who _does_ know what they’re doing, but—”

“—We’re just curious,” Connall says, smiling a conspirator’s grin. “About your plans.”

Aelin hurries to process the conversation she’s just heard, her mind struggling to pick out the critical details. The twins have always been a handful; that hasn’t changed with time. Yet, when they set their mind to something, there’s no stopping either of them, let alone the two of them together. 

The brothers wait, sharing a look as they wait for her response. They stay quiet, likely not wanting to try and sway her one way or the other. What they’ve said is true; her contract with Adarlan Records will be fulfilled after this next album. She _should_ be shopping for offers at this point. However, Aelin’s been a little distracted.

And perhaps a bit afraid.

“Um.” Aelin flashes them an embarrassed smile. “Truthfully, I haven’t even thought about it yet. I’m just trying to get this stupid album done, so I can finally take a nap.”

Fenrys chokes on a laugh; a smile plays at Connall’s lips.

“So, you’re not _not_ looking around?” Connall asks tentatively.

Aelin rolls her eyes, grinning at her friend. “I’m not _not_ looking.”

“Excellent!” Fenrys cheers, punching the air in victory. Aelin isn’t sure why, though, because she is sure as hell hasn’t agreed to anything with these two knuckleheads. “Then allow us to introduce you to our business partner.”

The twins smile mischievously, and as if on cue, someone knocks at the door.

##  **Adarlan Records Shares Behind the Scenes Clip of Aelin Galathynius and Nox Owens.**

Aelin likes going to record studios. It’s one of the few places she frequents where her bodyguards don’t need to stalk her down every hall. They transport her from her home to the studio, and then she’s free to do whatever. Aelin almost feels like an average person.

An average person with access to millions of dollars in recording equipment anyway.

“I’ve decided that I hate music,” Aelin complains as she leaves the studio, Nox Owen’s following after her. He doesn’t bother to hide his laughter, smiling in her direction as if he doesn’t believe a single word of it. Aelin glares at the producer. “I’m serious. I’m never going to write another song ever again. I hate it. I’m quitting.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset, Ae,” Nox says. She can hear the smile in his voice as she storms away; his long legs catch up with her easily. “It really wasn’t that bad—”

“It was _terrible_. I quit.” Aelin insists.

There’s a laugh from behind them, and Aelin spins on her heels quickly to see who it is finding such amusement in her lousy mood. She has every intention of telling them to fuck off until she sees who it is.

Rowan watches the duo with entertainment. His green eyes are smiling as they meet her own, and she frowns at him, playing hurt. 

“Liar,” the silver-haired man tells Aelin, still grinning.

Aelin makes a show of being offended by his accusation, but Rowan ignores her. Instead, he turns to Nox, and the men clasp hands in greeting. Aelin isn’t all that surprised that they know each other; everyone knows everyone in the music world. It’d be weirder if they didn’t know each other.

“Bad session?” Rowan asks Nox. Aelin crosses her arms, rolling her eyes like a stubborn child. The men share a secret smile; it must be answer enough because Rowan laughs again, smiling at Aelin. “Guess some things never change.”

“I hate both of you,” Aelin tells them with no real heat. “You’re both fired.”

Nox clutches his heart in despair, but he’s laughing still. Rowan, on the other hand, barks a laugh and raises a brow at her. He says, “You can’t fire me. I don’t work for you.”

“Well, I just did.” Aelin scowls. “Now I’m going to go crawl under a rock and—”

Suddenly, the world goes dark as something clovers her eyes. Aelin screams in horror, recognizing a pair of hands as what is covering her face. Instinctively, Aelin rams an elbow into her attacker’s larger frame, stomping blindly until she finds a foot to dig her heel into.

A deep voice swears a string of foul words, but the hands fall away from her eyes. Aelin is quick to twirl away from the assailant, backing towards the men she was just speaking with. Rowan’s hands fin her waist quickly, tugging her into the safety of his side. His alarmed eyes meet hers.

Nox cackles, slapping his hand against his thigh. Aelin glares at the music producer, unable to process what’s just happened until her heart figures out how to restart itself. 

“I see someone’s been practicing,” a pained voice says, sounding oddly proud by the statement. Aelin looks that way, finding Cassian Guerra hunched over and clutching his side. He flashes her a grimace of a smile.

“ _Cassian!_ ” Aelin exclaims, breaking free of Rowan’s grasp and launching herself at her friend. She squeals with delight, and Cassian barely catches her.

“I don’t know what I expected from you,” he teases, rubbing his side where she hit him. “You’ve always had one hell of a hit,” Cassian says, referring to their time in Velaris together. When Aelin took refuge in the picturesque city, Cassian was always more than happy to distract her by kicking her ass in the gym.

Aelin punches him in the arm as she remembers what he did. “You fucking asshole!”

Cassian’s laughter booms down the hallway and attracts the attention of those nearby. Aelin is loud enough on her own; Cassian only amplifies the chaos. She tries to punch him again, but he catches it, laughter still rumbling from his chest.

“You scared the shit outta me!” she cries, trying to wrench her hands free so that she might hit him again. “Let me go! I’m going to _murder_ you.”

Aelin glares as Cassian tries to catch his breath. He wheezes, “I can’t believe you screamed like that. That was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. You just made my year.”

“I hate you,” she sniffs, backing away from him. She bumps softly into Rowan, still standing behind her, and he catches her gently by the shoulders, smiling down at her as she frowns at the other man. Despite her anger at Cassian, Aelin struggles not to beam as Rowan’s hands linger on her shoulders. She glares at the large brunette man, struggling to look as fierce as possible. “You’re fired, too.”

That confuses Cassian, and his laughing ceases. “What?”

“Don’t ask,” Nox tells the other man, grinning, but he eyes the recording artist curiously. “What brings you to this part of the world, man?”

“I was visiting someone,” Cassian says, shrugging casually. There’s a stiffness in his shoulders that suggests anything but. “Inspiration hits when it hits. You know? But—” He flashes that devil’s smile Aelin’s way. “—word reached me that the infamous _Aelin Galathynius_ was in the building, so I came looking.”

“You’re still an asshole,” she sniffs, earning another round of laughter.

Nox and Cassian get into a chat over something or another quickly. A slight pressure on one of her shoulders has Aelin turning around to face Rowan. She smiles at him, happy to have him near, when he says, “I have to head off now, or I’ll miss my studio time. But, I’ll catch you later, alright?”

Disappointment rushes through her; Aelin only just got to see him.

“Who are you working with?” she asks, wanting a bit of insight into his work. They haven’t had many opportunities to talk about their music as of late, and everything is so secretive in the music industry that it’s hard not to reveal any secrets. 

Rowan grimaces at the question. “Remelle.”

Another one of Adarlan’s recent acquisitions within the pop world. Remelle Snowe is an all-around, self-proclaimed diva, but it’s not in the way that garners affection. She’s known for catfights and complex demands and bad attitudes during interviews. Aelin recalls the story of Remelle walking off stage once because the stage crew missed her light cue.

Yet, Rowan is producing music with _her_?

Jealousy is a new feeling for Aelin. She immediately decides that she doesn’t like it.

“Well… Have fun with that,” she tells him dispassionately.

Rowan snorts softly, ruffles his hair as he thinks. “Don’t worry, Ace,” he tells her, tapping her nose once before he walks away, backward. “You’ll always be my favorite pop star.”

An affronted noise escapes her. “ _Excuse me_. I think you meant Rock Star.”

“Nah,” he says, smiling. He points at himself. “That’s me.”

Rowan spares her a wink, and then he takes his leave.

##  **Cassian Guerra and Aelin Galathynius Spotted At Lunch!**

Aelin pretends not to notice Cassian’s fiendish grin as he watches her from across the sticky diner table. It looks like he’s just caught her doing something naughty, which is odd because Aelin has no idea what it could be.

She arches a brow at him. Cassian’s smile only grows.

“ _What?”_ Aelin finally breaks, snapping at him. Her lunch date looks utterly unaffected; in fact, Aelin didn’t think his smile could get any bigger, but it does. Her hackles raise, and Cassian's shoulders tremble with the need to start laughing.

“I swear, Cassian,” Aelin threatens, attracting attention in the restaurant. Ress and Chaol watch them curiously, preparing to intervene if necessary. “If you bring up the screaming again, I’m going to kick your—“

“I’m not. _Promise_.” He holds his hands up in surrender. His eyes sparkle. “You gotta admit, though; it was pretty funny shit.”

“Ugh!” Aelin chucks her napkin at him. Cassian barks a laugh, letting it hit him in the face without complaint.

“It’s just that I was wondering,” her companion starts, retrieving the napkin from his lap and folding it nonchalantly. “If you’ve set a date yet.”

“A date?” Aelin is confused by the question. Her brows pinch together. “Like—for the album? Yeah. It’s coming out—“

“No,” he interrupts. Cassian’s face promises more trouble. “For your wedding.”

She growls, looking for something else to throw at him. Silverware seems a little extreme, but Cassian is making it difficult for Aelin to resist the temptation.

“You’re not funny,” Aelin hisses. Something in her voice makes his smile drop, and Cassian’s expression turns from hilarity to concern. “It’s a little too soon for the jokes, Cass.”

“Oh,” he says, looking surprised. “Fuck. My bad. I just thought—“

Aelin waves him off, feeling guilty about making Cassian feel bad. “It’s not really anything yet. Or ever.” She scrunches up her nose as she thinks over her words. “It’s all kind of screwy right now.”

Her lunch date blows out a breath. “Yeah, I feel that,” Cassian says. “I _so_ feel that.”

Aelin nudges his foot under the table. “Wanna talk about it?”

His hazel eyes are hard for a beat before returning to the twinkling mischievous expression that Aelin so identifies as Cassian. “Nah, but I do wanna borrow your magic music brain if you’re not busy.”

She perks up at that, despite having declared her exit from the music world within the last hour. “You want help writing something?”

He grins. “Any chance I can convince you to sing a little ditty for me?”

“ _Sing?_ ” Aelin exclaims; her surprise is evident in her voice. “What kind of singing are we talking about here? Because the last time I agreed blindly to one of your ideas, you took me to karaoke night at Rita’s, and I—“

“That was _one time_ ,” Cassian defends, exasperated. “How was I supposed to know you couldn’t hold your tequila?” Aelin narrows her eyes at him, waiting for an answer to her earlier question. He sighs dramatically. “I wrote something, and I think it’d make for a good duet.”

She eyes him suspiciously. Cassian rolls his eyes at her antics, gesturing towards her. “That’s where you come in. It’s a love song. Your boyfriend suggested I ask you.”

“Which boyfriend?” Aelin knows that Cassian is referring to his best friend Rhys, whom Aelin frequently plays pranks on the media with, but she asks anyway, wanting to be difficult. She hasn’t totally forgiven him for scaring the daylight out of her yet. “I have several.”

On cue, Chaol chokes on his coffee at the adjoining table. Cassian’s eyes snap to the suffering bodyguard, then to Aelin; she arches a brow in a challenge, daring her friend to say something. His hazel eyes light up in delight.

“ _Aelin_ ,” Cassian purrs across the table. His grin is blinding. “How I’ve missed you.”

“It was Rhys, wasn’t it?” she deadpans, fighting her own smile as she changes the subject. Of course, Rhys would send his adopted brother her way to write a song. Aelin needs to take another trip to Velaris to see everyone.

Cassian shrugs, affecting nonchalance. “You up for it or not?”

“Let me think on it,” she tells him, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. Aelin makes a thoughtful expression, scratches her chin; Cassian barks a laugh, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Would I rather write my album,” she muses aloud, “or help you with yours and ignore my own problems?”

Cassian’s face lights up; he knows he’s got her. “Fuck yeah!”

##  **Remelle Snowe Teases New Song, Tagging Songwriter Rowan Whitethorn.**

“Rowan! You’re here!” Aelin cheers when the silver-haired man enters the studio space, wearing a confused expression. His eyes light up at the sight of her, and something funny happens in her stomach.

“Yes,” he says curiously. “Although I’m not sure why.”

“Cassian and I need a guitarist!” Aelin’s words jumble together with how quickly she speaks; she’s just so excited. Rowan frowns at her, waiting for the rest of her explanation, and Aelin has to roll her eyes at him. She gestures wildly in his direction. “Rumor has it, you play the guitar.”

That one earns a laugh. “Yes, I’ve heard that before, too,” Rowan says. “Where on earth do they come up with these ideas?”

Aelin laughs at his snark, throwing her head back and clutching at his arms to hold herself upright. Heat spreads across her cheeks at the sight of Rowan’s pleased expression, but the view of Cassian over Rowan’s shoulder, wearing that stupid smile of his and wiggling his eyebrows, ruins the moment.

“We wrote something,” Aelin tells Rowan, ignoring her co-singer.

He doesn’t miss the chance to take a shot at her. “Wow, shortest retirement ever. What was that? Four hours?”

“Five,” Aelin tells him with a glare. “I’m just not ready for that Bridge Club Life yet.” Another laugh. “So? Are you going to help us or what?”

Rowan messes with her, pretending to be irritated by her request, but he’s quick to break, flashing her one of his rare smiles and agreeing. “Why the hell not,” he says, laughing at the cheering that ensues. “I could use another Aelin Galathynius Success to put Thea through college.”

“Um, excuse me,” Cassian interrupts, approaching the pair with a devilish smile. “I think you meant Cassian Guerra Success.”

Rowan eyes the other singer incredulously. Aelin has to bite her lip to hide her smile; she’s not sure these two would be friends of their own volition. Rowan looks at her for confirmation, a silent conversation between them.

_Is this guy serious?_

Aelin gives in to the smile. _Yes. Very._

##  **Out Now:** _ **Up**_ **by Cassian Guerra with Aelin Galathynius.**

“ _Mom_ ,” Aelin groans, exasperated with Evalin Ashryver Galathynius. Only her mother would call at such a godsforsaken hour to hound her about invitations. “Why would you even bother mailing me one? You see me at least once a week.”

“Adults check their mail, Aelin,” her mother’s clipped voice responds through the phone. Aelin can imagine her mother’s frustrated expression as if she were actually standing in front of her. “This isn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, well, most people don’t get hundreds of letters from fans and—Oh! I got a coupon for ice cream!” Aelin exclaims as she uncovers the little postcard. She could totally go for some ice cream right now. “Is it too late to go out for ice cream? Keep in mind that I’m asking as your friend and not as your daughter.”

A sigh. It sounds an awful lot like her name. “Your fan mail doesn’t even go to your real addresses, Aelin. They go to your PO Box.”

“My addresses are all public knowledge,” Aelin reminds her mother. “Not everyone follows directions, Mom. You should know that best of all; you raised me after all.”

“Don’t I know it,” Evalin grumbles. Although, Aelin’s mother is quick to refocus. “Did you find the invitation or not?”

“Um,” Aelin says, hesitating. She digs through the pile of mail in her kitchen again, searching for something that looks like it came from Evalin Galathynius. Her fingers grasp at another card, and she yanks it out of the pile.

It reads: **Yrene Towers, MD.**

The business card is a surprise for her. Aelin thought it’d gotten thrown out, having disappeared a while ago from its haunt on her counter. She turns the card over in her hands, eyeing it with scrutiny.

“Aelin?”

“Oh, uh.” She turns the little tray holding her mail over, watching the contents spread out across the kitchen island. A cream-colored envelope catches her eye, and Aelin snatches it, turning it over and reading the front. “Yes. I got it. Happy now?”

“It’s like your asking me to fight with you,” her mother tells Aelin with another sigh. “If you could please respond to it—by mail—that would be very appreciated, Fireheart.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” her mother breathes.

As they bicker their way towards a goodnight, Aelin opens the envelope, surprised to find an invitation to Thea’s third birthday party of all things. The invite brings unexpected tears to her eyes as she reads the details. Aelin’s never been invited to one of Thea’s birthday parties before.

After hanging up with Evalin, Aelin snaps a picture of the invitation and sends it to Essar, asking for it to be put on her calendar. The only way Aelin is going to miss this thing is if she’s dead, but to be fair, it’s still a couple of months out, so it could always happen.

The thought is bitter and cruel. Aelin tries to ignore it, but it only draws her gaze back to the little business card beside her, waiting patiently for her. Aelin groans, picking it back up as she heads for the living room.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Live Recording of** _ **Up**_ **.**

She isn’t sure how long she stares at the little business card in her hands. There’s an idiot part of Aelin’s brain that still insists she doesn’t even need the number anymore. She has been feeling much better lately, feeling upbeat and happy for a change. 

Her last slum was weeks ago. There’s been no trouble hunting for the motivation to get out of bed or to take a show. Aelin is fine. Totally.

Then Aelin recalls her most recent argument with Rowan; she thinks about their talk in the mountains, as well, and her mother’s gentle attempt at an intervention. Aedion has brought the topic up again, but Aelin is willing to wager that it’s only for lack of opportunity. Her cousin isn’t the kind of guy to corner her with others around, and he’s been awfully busy with Lysandra as of late.

Aedion still hasn’t proposed, though. Aelin wonders what he is waiting for.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she asks herself, fussing with the card in her hands. At long last, she sighs, reaching for her phone and typing in the phone number. Aelin finds herself praying that the doctor doesn’t answer; she hopes that Dr. Towers will be too busy to notice the call, so Aelin can shrug the task off for another time, say _I tried_.

She’s not so lucky, though.

“Dr. Towers speaking,” Yrene’s soothing voice says. There’s a long pause, and Aelin realizes a moment too late that the doctor is waiting for her to say something in response.

“H-hey,” Aelin croaks, flinching at her idiocy. “It’s me—uh, Aelin. Aelin Galathynius.”

“Aelin?” Yrene Towers echoes, sound surprised. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

The singer’s heart falls at the woman’s genuine worry. Aelin hates how people always assume the worst when she calls; one day, people won’t always tiptoe around her, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Totally,” Aelin says, forcing a laugh. “Everything’s totally fine.”

Fine. There’s that word again.

Aelin can practically feel Yrene’s hesitation on the other end of the line. Yet, her voice is nothing but full of kindness as she speaks again. “Is there something I can do for you, Aelin?”

Another pause. It’s just a few too seconds too long.

“I hear you fixed fucked up people,” Aelin says, the words bursting from her lungs before Dr. Towers can ask another question. “Um, I’d like to test your skills.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces** _ **Dear Society**_ **. Coming Soon!**

**-**


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something of a transitionary chapter with a little fluff sprinkled in. The chapter (or so) after this has a lot of moving parts, so bear with me while I wrangle everything into something cohesive.

##  **Is Aelin Galathynius Leaving Adarlan Records?**

Aelin isn’t sure why she keeps it all a secret, but she does. She meets with Yrene in the privacy of one of her two—soon to be three, she thinks—homes. As Rowan so kindly pointed out during their argument, she’s surrounded by people who are paid to do what she says. They’ve all signed their NDAs; they’re not about to tell anyone.

“It’s called Doctor-Patient Confidentiality,” Yrene assures her over her giant, steaming coffee mug. They’re curled up in the sitting room of Aelin’s townhouse for their second meeting, and Aelin’s just made a somewhat self-deprecating and borderline threatening comment about what the press would say if they caught wind of her clandestine meetings with the good doctor.

Aelin juts her chin out stubbornly, but Yrene merely rolls her eyes at her patient. That’s what the doctor prefers to be called Yrene—not Dr. Towers or Dr. Yrene. Just Yrene. Aelin thinks that’s a colossal waste of a medical degree; if she had a doctorate, there’s no way in hell her stubborn ass would respond to anything less than Dr. Aelin Galathynius.

She’d make a pretty terrible doctor, Aelin supposes. It’s probably for the best she became an entertainer.

“It’s the law,” Yrene reiterates. She pauses, considering, and then says, “Do you always worry so much about what other people think of you?”

The blonde cuts a scathing look in the doctor’s direction; Aelin doesn’t know if she’s ever heard such a remarkably dense question. She raises one brow and asks, “What if I said: _all of the fucking time?_ ”

Yrene tilts her head, listening carefully, and saying little. Aelin pretends not to know what she’s doing, but it only took a couple carefully disguised questions for Aelin to figure it out. Somehow Yrene was making casual conversation and diagnosing her at the same time.

“But, like, I’m also fucking _famous,_ ” Aelin complains, gesturing wildly with her shoulders—just barely saving her own cup of coffee from disaster. “Which was probably the worst idea I’ve ever had in my life because—Gods. Do you know what it’s like to not be able to go out in public?”

She waits—Yrene gestures for her to continue. Aelin uses the opportunity to rant. “I had to send someone to go buy tampons for me because I can’t step out into the public without a security detail. _Fucking tampons._ Wanna know the last time I was in a grocery store?”

The doctor raises a brow in silent question. Aelin frowns as she tries to remember, but all she recalls now is that she _never_ goes to the grocery store. Aelin doesn’t cook. “Okay, so that was probably a bad example, but still!”

They both know Yrene is trying not to laugh. Aelin sighs agitatedly, leaning back into her couch and sipping at her coffee.

“You live a high-stress life, absolutely,” Yrene agrees. Her eyes are sharp and clear, calculating some invisible equation that Aelin can’t see, and yet, she’s providing all of the variables. “Do you usually find yourself worrying about what people think of you in a general sort of way?”

Aelin sends her a confused expression, and Yrene clarifies, “Or do you usually worry in a more _I can’t believe what I said to Chaol last Tuesday at lunch_ sort of way?“

The blonde covers her face, groaning into her hands. “Maybe this is a bad time to tell you that I say a lot of stupid shit. Now, I’m trying to figure out what dumbass shit I said to Chaol that he thought was worth mentioning to my doctor.”

Yrene’s smile is small and kind; Aelin wonders how she manages to look so amused without making Aelin feel judged. It’s kind of nice.

“Let’s talk about your sleeping habits next.” The doctor transitions effortlessly.

“Oh, that sounds like fun,” Aelin deflects. She makes a face at the doctor, says, “Hey. Shouldn’t you be taking notes or something?”

“I like to write down my notes at the end of a session,” Yrene says softly, gently. She takes a sip from her coffee; Aelin instinctively mirrors her, sipping at the warm liquid and feeling it settle into her bones. “That way, I can pay better attention to you. We get to have a conversation rather than you just talking to a frowning woman with a clipboard.”

“Huh,” Aelin says, thinking it over. “You’re not half bad at this, Doc.”

“Yrene,” the other woman corrects with a tone that Aelin is familiar with hearing from people. Exasperated fondness. “Now, would you say that you have trouble falling asleep?”

“Doctor— _Yrene_ , sorry. Sorry,” Aelin corrects herself quickly. “Have you not met me before? Do I have trouble falling asleep…”

##  **The Doranelle Women’s Foundation: What is it? What does it have to do with Aelin Galathynius?**

“Do you have a moment?” Chaol asks, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

Aelin groans, rubbing at her bleary eyes; they’ve nearly gone cross from attempting to answer the plethora of emails Essar has forwarded to her, each marked with their own level of importance. She’s barely broken the surface of those marked _Urgent_.

“Yes,” she says. “Anything to get me out of these emails. _Please_ , tell me you brought chocolate.”

The corners of Chaol’s mouth quirk into an expression that promises disappointment. “I certainly wish I did. Now that you’ve suggested it.”

Aelin pretends her heart doesn’t sink at the expression on his face. She’s been waiting for this moment for a while now, felt it lingering in the air between them. All of the preparation in the world couldn’t leave her ready for it. Chaol’s her friend; she’ll miss him hovering around and brooding over her shoulder.

He claims the seat across from her, and they both watch the other shyly, waiting for the other to speak first. Aelin opens her mouth to say something at the same time as Chaol, and then both halt midword, sharing an awkward laugh and looking away from each other.

“You first,” Aelin says. The computer dings on the desk, and she fails to suppress her cringe. It’s another email from Essar.

Chaol rubs his jaw. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope, setting it on the desk between them with a forced smile. Aelin thinks he’s going for reassurance, but it’s more a grimace than anything.

“I appreciate—”

“I take it back,” Aelin interrupts, flashing him a self-deprecating smile. “If you go first, you’ll just take the sentimental route, and I’ll feel like crying. You know how unstable I am.”

Chaol frowns. Then: “I hated working for you. The worst job I ever had.”

Aelin throws her head back when she laughs, but it’s watery, and her eyes burn. She has to take a shaky breath before she can bring herself to speak again. “I hate your guts. I’ll be glad to see you go.”

“I’ll tell everyone you’re a diva,” he insists. They smile.

“I’m going to tell everyone who calls for a reference that you were lousy at your job.” Aelin sniffs in his direction, and Chaol laughs, rolling his eyes at her. He slides the envelope closer.

“I’ll stick around until you find a replacement,” he assures her. “I have a few leads to chase, and then I can provide a couple of recommendations. If you want me to, of course.”

“Thanks,” she tells him. Another sniff. “I’d appreciate that.”

“I’m proud of you, Aelin.” He says, a small smile on his lips. Chaol doesn’t elaborate, but Aelin knows he’s talking about the steps she’s taking. The little bottle of orange pills hiding in her desk and the bi-weekly hour blocked out on her schedule for “meditation.”

She’ll tell people. When she’s ready.

##  **An Inside Look At Aelin Galathynis Downtown Brownstone.**

“Catch!” Thea shouts, tossing the tennis ball.

Fleetfoot takes off with a yip, launching across the yard to chase down the ball. Thea breaks into a fit of giggles, running behind her canine companion. Aelin knows that’s not how the game is supposed to work exactly, but they’re having too much fun to teach anyone otherwise.

“Yay!” Thea claps when they reach the ball, making Aelin smile at them. The toddler’s brown curls turn auburn in the afternoon sun, bouncing as she laughs. Fleetfoot dutifully drops the ball at the little girl’s feet, and in a heartbeat, the dog starts to bark, demanding Thea throw the ball again.

It’s pure chaos; Aelin fucking loves it.

“Catch!” The process repeats itself. Aelin frowns as she notes the rather sorry excuse for a backyard they’re in; for this part of the city, even this little patch of green is a luxury, but Aelin has started contemplating looking for something new. A home with a bit more greenery for Fleetfoot; she didn’t own the dog when she bought this place. Backyards weren’t important then.

A presence at her back has Aelin snapping her notebook closed, hurrying to hide what she’s working on. Aelin pretends to watch Thea play with Fleetfoot, fighting off the blush that threatens. Rowan claims the seat beside her, a knowing smile dancing on his face. She narrows her eyes at him in defense, but Rowan is unphased. Aelin could probably pull a knife on him, and he’d just laugh at her, smiling that smile of his.

Rowan rests his elbows on his knees, looking pointedly at the notebook. “Whatcha got there, Ace?”

“Sorry, I forgot you still used parchment and ink when you were in school,” Aelin says flatly. Rowan barks a laugh, biting his lip to stifle it in an unfairly attractive manner. “This is a notebook.”

They smile at each other for a moment too long. Then Rowan clears his throat, tilting his head to one side and looking at her carefully; Aelin resists the urge to cross her arms protectively. It’s just Rowan. “What were you writing?”

“N-nothing,” she stutters.

His green eyes smile. “I thought you said the album was done—which, by the way, I’m still waiting for the scary-looking man with an air-gapped laptop chained to his wrist to preview it for me.”

Aelin rolls her eyes at him. “It’s being polished off still, but—yeah, it’s done.”

“So?” Rowan says, his voice achingly hopeful. “Can I see it?”

“I already said you’d get to listen to it—”

“No, not this album.” He nods at the notebook in her hands. “Whatever you’re working so hard on now.” Rowan’s smile fades, uncertainty shadowing his eyes. “I mean if it’s okay. You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to—”

Aelin’s chest squeezes. There was a time when Rowan would just snatch the notebook from her and read it, holding it out of her reach. She’d stand on her tippy toes to get it back, punching his sides to try and get him to return it.

It’s upsetting to see how they’ve grown apart, although she can feel the progress that’s been made that they’ve grown closer together. Yet, not close enough.

“Um,” she bites her lip, thinking hard. Aelin isn’t ready for anyone to see what she’s writing right now, but she doesn’t want to say as much and risk hurting his feelings. “I’ll show you… another time.”

And just like old times, understanding dawns on Rowan’s face. His eyes light up, and his mouth softens into a smile. “I’m going to hold you to that then.”

“I would expect nothing less of you,” she tells him, smiling. Fleetfoot picks that moment to scramble up the stairs and onto the deck. The dog wiggles her whole butt, tail swinging recklessly in all directions. A ball lands on Aelin’s feet.

Instinctively, both adults scan the yard, looking for Thea. Aelin spots her sitting amongst the flowers in the garden bed; she up to her elbows in mud, the cute sundress she’s wearing covered with mud.

“What are you doing there, _leannan_?” Rowan calls, sounding nervous.

Thea looks up right away, and Aelin can easily make out her happy smile, the clumps of flowers in her hands. The little girl waves them in the air triumphantly, shaking dirt everywhere. 

“I’m picking flowers for Aelin!” Thea declares, adding a W to her name where there should be an L. _Aewin,_ the toddler calls her. Aelin thinks she’s way too fucking cute. 

Rowan looks horrified when he turns to Aelin, more upset about the destruction of the flower beds than Aelin could ever pretend to be. She shrugs, smiling dopily at him. “Don’t worry about it. I literally could care less about what the yard looks like. Fleetfoot digs.”

“Are you sure? I’m can totally—“

Aelin waves away his worries. The inexplicable sting of tears tickles the corners of her eyes, and Aelin has to work very hard to keep her voice from wavering. She flashes him a grin. “Seriously, Buzzard. Besides, I’m getting _flowers_.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Picture on Instagram: _Flowers from Thea. 🌸🌼🌺_**

The boardrooms in Adarlan Records are downright glacier in appearance. Everything is made of glass in these rooms: panes of glass for walls, sleek glass doors, even the conference table is made of crystal clear glass. It’s a wonder she isn’t sitting on glass chairs.

Aelin’s never felt more exposed in her life.

The screen of her phone lights up. **Dinner at Emrys’s tonight?**

A smile takes over her face at the invitation from Rowan. They’ve been spending more and more time together, rebuilding their friendship from the wreckage. Aelin’s so excited to get to know him again. 

**Thea insists you bring Fleetfoot**. Rowan complains before Aelin has typed out her response. A yes, of course. **I had to explain that dogs can’t come into restaurants, and now we’re in full-fledged toddler meltdown mode.**

Aelin laughs, even as she feels a little bad for him. Parenthood is no joke, and she’s only had secondhand glimpses into the joy. 

**Nothing will keep them apart. Their love for each other knows no bounds.** Aelin responds, snickering at her own wit as she presses send. **Even health codes.**

 **Ha ha,** is Rowan’s reply. She can imagine his flat tone too easily as she sends off another text: **I’ll see you tonight. If you survive.**

“Well, well,” Dorian begins, flopping into the seat adjacent to Aelin’s and startling her. He’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “You sure clean up nice, Ae. I thought you’d never get the red out of your eyes from crying through that movie.”

“That move is a fucking _classic_ ,” she growls, narrowing her eyes at Dorian. “Also: what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Hey! Now is that any way to greet your new—“ Dorian glances over his shoulder dramatically, making a show of looking for eavesdroppers. “—business partner?”

Aelin sucks in a sharp breath at his gall. “Are you fucking out of your mind? Do you even realize where we are right now?”

“Of course, I do.” Dorian’s shrug is indifferent, but his smile promises mischief. “I basically grew up here. I think I took my first steps right down the hall.” He wrinkles his forehead in thought, looking at Aelin as if he doubts her intelligence. “You _do_ know that my dad owns this place, right?”

“What? Really? I had no idea.” Aelin’s voice is flat as she answers him. “I always just thought it was a coincidence that you two had the same last name. _Havilliard_ is so common.”

Dorian beams at her. His eyes turn wide when he realizes why Aelin is waiting in the board room. “Shit,” he swears. Dorian’s grin threatens to split his face in half. “You’re totally here to break up with my dad, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Dor!” Aelin chucks her phone at him, and Dorian breaks into laughter as he catches it, keeps it for himself. “Could you be any louder?”

“ _Buzzard_ says he’ll see you tonight,” her friend says, reading from her phone screen. “That sounds like a date! Are you going on a date?”

“Fuck off,” Aelin snarls. Dorian laughs, but he takes pity on her, returning the phone to her without a struggle. 

“Oh, man.” The heir of Adarlan Records clutches his stomach to support himself. He’s wheezing from laughing so hard. “My dad is going to fucking _lose_ it when you tell him. I hope I’m there to see his face.”

“Shut up, that’s not what I’m doing,” Aelin insists. “I’m giving him a chance at final negotiations.”

She’s spent the time since her meeting with the twins—and their mysterious business partner _fucking_ _Dorian Havilliard_ —shopping deals quietly. Havilliard Sr. has been a total shit throughout the process. This is the last hurrah.

“You know he’s not going to show up, right?” Dorian challenges; his eyes are apologetic. “He’s going to send one or two of his scary lawyers. And _they’re_ going to intimidate you into doing what he wants—no matter the cost.” Dorian’s eyes turn sad, focusing somewhere far away and within himself. “It’s how my college career was determined—coffee with the lawyers.”

”Dor…” Aelin trails off.

Her friend simply waves off her concern, rustling his hair with one hand and sighing. Aelin is disgusted to notice that Dorian’s hair still looks utterly perfect, tousled just right. It’s inhuman; it’s unfair.

“Right. So.” Dorian heaves a sigh, fixes the watch at his wrist. “My father has sent me on his behalf to ask what it will take to convince you to resign with Adarlan Records.” Those blue eyes of his as sharp and crystal clear as ever. “Apparently, our biblical knowledge of each other gives me some kind of leverage.”

She grimaces. “The sex wasn’t _that_ good.”

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever seen Dorian look more offended in his life. She just barely resists a smile as he primps, adjusting the collar of his jacket and frowning at her in disapproval. “I’m just going to act like I didn’t hear you make such a slanderous accusation.”

She laughs brightly, but the smile falls off her face as she connects the dots. In a flash, Aelin strikes out across the table, punching him in his arm before shrieking at him. “Wait just one second, _Dorian Havilliard_!” The man yelps, gripping his arm. “Why the fuck did your dad send you to win me over?”

Dorian gapes at her. “You are a menace to society.”

Aelin lifts her hand up to hit him again. Dorian is quick to put his hands up in surrender, mumbling something foul under his breath before shooting her a look.

“Maybe because I’m a good son, Aelin,” he whispers across the table. The conspirator’s smile he sends her way is the same one Dorian used to convince a drunken Aelin to streak across the beaches in Narrow’s Landing with him. Gods know how no one recognized them.

“Or, maybe,” he continues, glancing over his shoulder again, checking for listeners. “Maybe, I’m a spy.”

“You’re a huge pain in my ass is what you are,” Aelin snaps. A smile plays at her lips, nevertheless. It’s hard not to grin when Dorian’s smiling at her.

“And now we’ll get to see each other _all of the time_ ,” Dorian whispers, eyes bright and full of trouble. “Aren’t you excited?”

Aelin leans forward, and Dorian’s smile grows. “Your father has no idea that you’ve started your own label,” she accuses. Aelin can’t tell if that’s pride or accusation in her voice.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens; two men in broad-shouldered suits are waiting on the other side. One flashes Aelin a smile with too-white teeth. Dorian nods to both of them, looks Aelin’s way.

“The sooner you tell these two to fuck off,” he whispers at her as they enter the room. “The sooner we can go get lunch. It’s on me.”

##  **How Dorian Havilliard Has Quietly Built His Own Business Empire.**

Much to Aelin’s dismay, Dorian is right about everything. The lawyers immediately try to engage in conversation with her; their words are nothing more than thinly-veiled coercion methods, an attempt to get the only woman in the room to do what they want.

Nobody even bothers telling her that Havilliard Sr. isn’t going to make it; it’s just supposed to be apparent. 

It’s like they’ve all forgotten that the only reason Aelin’s made it this far is because of _her_. Suddenly everyone uses phrases such as “everything we’ve done for you” and “all the money we’ve given you.” 

Fuck all of that, Aelin thinks. She’s only here right now because of herself and because of all the hard work she’s put into her career, and because of her tenacity for _just_ avoiding tragedy by the skin of her teeth.

Aelin is furious. She refuses to speak a word to anyone, forcing the men in the room to continue attempts to get her talking. Dorian vibrates in his seat, thrilled to witness such a momentous occasion. Playing the part, he occasionally tries to strike up a conversation, but his words have a double meaning. 

_I’m willing to negotiate with you, Ace._ But not on his father’s behalf.

 _I think we’ll make a good team_. Dorian and Aelin. With Fenrys and Connall.

“I think we’re done here, gentlemen,” Aelin says sharply after another round of pleasantries. She’s hoped to have a casual, friendly conversation with Havilliard Sr., with someone she’d worked beside for years. Instead, the man in question sent his goonies, feeling owed more than his dues, feeling entitled.

She dials a number in her phone pointedly, rising from her seat and heading towards the lobby. Aelin knows she’ll find her security there, waiting to take her home. She’s gone from the building with the quarter-hour.

Aelin is still pissed off about it the next morning, lying in her bed and grumbling to herself about male entitlement. She ranted the whole way through dinner with Rowan, who listened to her patiently and added a few choice descriptors where needed. Thea told Malakai that it was stupid they didn’t allow dogs.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius Have Dinner Together!**

The next morning, there’s a particularly gaudy and elaborate bouquet of flowers waiting for her on the table in her foyer. Aelin knows with just a glance who sent them; they look exactly like something Dorian would send her, snickering about how funny it was to send his ex-fling a dozen roses.

There’s a little card tied to the vase: **I always liked fill-in the blank stories.**

Aelin rolls her eyes, picking up the large envelope beside the flowers. Curious, she breaks the seal and slides out the stack of papers. They’re all blank, except for the heading: **MUSIC RECORDING AGREEMENT, AELIN GALATHYNIUS.**

She grabs a pen and starts right out her terms.

##  **Adarlan Records Insists Aelin Galathynius Will Remain “With the Family.”**


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer update today… lots of fluff and Thea. 

##  **Aelin Galathynius Releases First Single, _Light On._**

Aelin has been in this chair for three hours now, staring at her reflection in the vanity as it gets remade into something different. She’s watched as her face has grown more glamorous—chiseled, and yet soft, sexy, but sweet. There’s a look Manon is going for that she hasn’t yet figured out; Aelin loves it either way.

“No, no, no,” a voice shouts from the closest. “That’s just _hideous._ ”

Manon brought a friend with her. Usually, Aelin would never allow a stranger into her home, invite someone she didn’t know or trust into her circle for the evening. Still, she decided to give Manon the benefit of the doubt, especially when it was revealed to her that the friend was actually blood. Manon’s cousin.

“Gee, thanks,” Lysandra deadpans. Aelin’s pleasantly surprised by how well everyone is hitting it off. It’s nice, she thinks, to have some girlfriends. She’s never had that before. Just Lysandra.

The woman, Asterin, breaks into a cackle of a laugh. Aelin watches as the corners of Manon’s permanent scowl twitch upwards; it makes Aelin grin openly at her reflection. Her stylist’s cousin is all spunk and fiery temperament, where Manon is cold and impassive.

“We think you should wear this one,” Manon’s cousin announces, appearing from within Aelin’s massive walk-in closet. She’s holding a blouse that Aelin hasn’t really noticed before, but that isn’t all that surprising. Aelin owns far too many clothes.

The singer eyes the shirt in Asterin’s hands; it’s split in color. On the left, the blouse, sleeves and all, is a stark white, and the right side, similarly, is black. The neckline is plunging, two halves barely meeting to cross over before the hem of the shirt.

Aelin raises her brow in surprise. It’s daring. Reading her thoughts, Lysandra dangles a few necklaces from her fingers, emphasizing the point, and Aelin barks a laugh. It causes Manon to frown at her for moving while she works. Aelin flashes her stylist an apologetic smile.

“Do we tape it?” Aelin asks, planning the logistics. She tries not to have her boobs all over the place, but at the same time, she does love a flirty, plunging neckline. Lysandra flashes her a daring smile in; Aelin should’ve known what the answer was going to be. She breaks into laughter again, earning another scowl from Manon.

“You know this is a charity event, right?” Aelin asks, fighting her grin.

Asterin sends her a challenging look. “You can still look hot—for charity.”

“And for that friend of yours,” Manon adds, powdering her face. She says the word _friend_ in such a way that conveys how little she believes in the term; Aelin scowls at the makeup artist, feeling called out.

Lysandra’s eyes light up with excitement. “Does that mean what I think it means? Oh, _please_ tell me that means what I think it does.”

Asterin claps her hands together, apparently already filled in on the situation. Aelin glares at Manon. “Is Rowan going to be there?”

“I hate all of you.” Aelin sighs to the chorus of laughter that answers.

“We need those boots from earlier,” Asterin tells Lys. The two women could be plotting battle strategy with how seriously they’re taking the task at hand. “They’ll make her ass look _fantastic_.”

Lysandra nods in agreement, and Aelin watches the two women disappear into her closet once more; their voices are excited as they talk strategy, fading the further into the closet they get. Aelin shoots Manon a look.

The stylist plays coy. “What?”

“You did that on purpose,” Aelin accuses.

Her stylist ignores her, starting her work on Aelin’s hair. It took them several sessions over a few drink-filled days to strip the shoulder-length locks of the red color and return it to blonde. It’s not that Aelin didn’t like the look; she was just ready for something else.

Manon is trying desperately to convince her to go adopt something called unicorn hair, a rainbow of colors all at once. Aelin assumes this is some weird bonding ritual for the other woman, convincing people to dye their hair strange colors so that Manon has an excuse to experiment.

For now, Aelin is back to blonde. Back to basics.

“But Rowan _is_ going to be there, isn’t he?” Manon prods as she twirls a piece of Aelin’s hair around a curling iron. “Or, are we just pretending that’s no big deal?”

Aelin glares. “It isn’t a big deal. I see him all the time.”

At least, Aelin is convinced that it isn’t, even though this is the first time he’ll be seeing her perform live in years. Rowan and Aelin have spent a lot of time together as of late. They schedule playdates for Thea and Fleetfoot, as promised, and the adult lounge around and eat good food and drink good wine. It’s been nice; Aelin’s afraid to get used to it.

Her attachment to Thea grows more and more with each encounter. Though that doesn’t seem to be very hard, based upon the rest of her friends’ love for the little girl. Thea is nothing but sweetness and owlish green eyes. She’ll have her crushes wrapped around her fingers when she’s earlier, eating out of the palm of her hands. Not that Rowan wants to hear a word of that.

A smile plays on her lips as Aelin recalls Rowan’s angry face when she told him as much. The thought of his daughter dating had him frowning deeply, already plotting how he’d scare them all away. He’d popped open the wine bottle with a little more force than necessary and grumbled something along the lines of _Over my dead body._

“Sure.” Manon sounds unconvinced as she eyes Aelin’s smile. “No big deal. Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

##  **The Doranelle Women’s Foundation Annual Charity Event Tonight!**

Aelin keeps her hands folded in her lap to hide the way they tremble; the car is rolling to a stop, parking at the beginning of a red carpet that never seems to end. Evalin Galathynius went all out for the charity she’s sponsoring this year, The Doranelle Women’s Foundation. She features a different charity every year for her big summer event, drawing attention to organizations that have otherwise been ignored.

Aelin really is proud of her mother, even as she stares at the carpet, searching desperately for the other end.

It’s been a few years since the last time Aelin attended one of these things, too afraid of her fame pulling away from all of her mother’s hard work. Havilliard Sr. has always wanted her to stay away from anything political, as well; so, Aelin tended to avoid her parents’ fundraising events. It’s something she regrets now, later in life.

Yet, Evalin insisted that she attend the event this year, but it wasn’t until Aedion told Aelin what her mother had planned that she understood better why she needed to be there.

A private benefit show. From a varied collection of artists. 5,000 a seat. For _charity_ , her mother cooed when asking Aelin to partake.

The silence is deafening as the car waits for their turn in line; whatever celebrity is in line in front of them sure is taking their time getting out. Aelin swallows nervously. She’s strutted her way down hundreds of red carpets throughout her career; yet, each one terrifies her as much as the last.

Apparently, she has anxiety. Yrene insisted that it wasn’t just a typical run of the mill case of stage fright. Aelin didn’t feel any better knowing that.

Essar types a few things on her phone as the car rolls forward in line. Then she says, “We’re ready when you are, Ae.”

Aelin takes a deep breath at the news, meeting the eyes of her security detail. Sweet, kind Ress watches her with a reassuring smile that’s easy to return. Aelin is happy to still have him along for the whirlwind that is her life. A little bit of calm in the storm.

Her eyes fall to their newest addition. Theodus Brullo is a difficult man to read, but Chaol swears he’s the best out there. According to the older man’s resume, he’s responsible for Chaol’s skill and success. That was good enough for Aelin’s team, and with that, Chaol was off to “pursue other interests.”

“Ms. Galathynius,” Brullo says, reaching for the door. The car floods with noise, the roar of a crowd and the clicking of cameras, and Aelin’s pales at the commotion. The PPO—as Brullo was quick to correct her after she called him bodyguard—flashes her a smile and offers his hand.

Aelin pauses, letting out a few choice words that have Ress blushing and Essar laughing. Brullo attempts a disapproving frown, but he smiles just the same. With Brullo’s help, Aelin sweeps out of the car, aiming for as much grace and class as possible. She sends a little prayer out that she doesn’t trip over her high heels and land on her face.

Her detail escorts her towards the beginning of the carpet, pausing at the entrance. Aelin can feel the cameras recording her arrival, but she chooses to smile at the fans in the wings, hoping for a chance to greet the celebrity guests arriving. She’d much rather spend an evening with them.

The security at the event is top of the line, hired and screened by Rhoe Galathynius himself. There’s no need for Ress or Brullo to follow her down the carpet, and so, they’ll meet her inside, where they’ll assist the on-site security. Aelin hopes they get to have at least a little fun.

Essar hovers at her side prepared to help her. She’ll walk the carpet with Aelin, keeping an eye on the star’s appearance, or as Aelin ordered her, make sure she isn’t photographed with a booger hanging out of her nose.

Persona in place, Aelin flashes the men her cocky smile. “See you, boys, on the other side.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Walks the DWS Red Carpet! See the look!**

The flashing lights are blinding as Aelin works her way down the path, pausing for the occasional question and smiling for the cameras. Manon and the other’s worked very hard on her look for the evening; they’ll all be pissed if she doesn’t show it off for them.

In the chaos, she ends up behind Lysandra and Aedion. Aelin keeps catching glimpses of her cousin, showing off his very hot, freshly-ringed fiance. It certainly took the bastard long enough to pop the question. This is their first event together since announcing the news publically, and unsurprisingly, the interviewer is mainly concerned with learning the details of the engagement, oblivious to the case they’re here for.

Aelin waits for them to finish their interview, impatiently; she’s in the middle of trying to make Aedion laugh, sending him dozens of ugly faces when someone grabs her elbow. Aelin jumps with a yelp, caught being bad. She’s afraid to look behind her and find her mother‘s disapproving frown, but when she does, the reality is much better.

“I hope someone caught you making that face,” Rowan says around a smile. “It was horrific. I want it stamped on every magazine cover tomorrow.”

Aelin jabs him quickly in the ribcage. “You take that back!”

They both laugh. Rowan clasps her hands in his to avoid further retaliation, saying, “Never. In fact, I’m going to buy a copy and frame it. I’ll hang it on my wall. My new apartment is still a little bare.”

“Gods.” She tries to hit him again. Fails. “I hate you. Go away.”

Rowan’s eyes crinkle with his smile, making her heart skip a few beats. He looks utterly handsome in his well-tailored navy blue suit; Aelin tries not to recall the last time she saw him in a suit, back before everything fell apart between them. Now’s not the time for those thoughts.

“Now that’s a sight for sore eyes.” A familiar voice floats their way, breaking her train of thought.

Vaughan stands to the side, watching them with an amused smile. Finding Rowan and Aelin bickering over nothing was a regular occurrence in The Cadre days; this probably feels like coming home for Vaughan. Rowan flashes their old bandmate a grin, but Aelin _squeals_ at the sight of the bassist _._ She breaks free of Rowan and launches herself towards him.

To his credit, the bassist is only a little surprised by the attack. Vaughan catches her like it’s something he does every day; Aelin supposes he definitely used to. Her friend’s hands grip her thighs to keep her from falling as she wraps her legs around his waist, a lover’s embrace. How odd this will look in tomorrow’s entertainment column.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Aelin cries. They’re both aware of the flashing of cameras, of the people taking note of their reunion and trying to hear what they’re talking about. Fuck them all, Aelin thinks. This is none of their business.

Vaughan smiles, adjusting his grip on her legs, and Aelin links her hands around his neck. He tells her, “Your mother is still as frightening as ever. You sure she’s never run a country or something?”

“Gods.” Aelin shivers at the thought. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

“If you two lovebirds are finished,” Rowan teases, watching his friends with fondness, but there’s a tightness in his eyes that Aelin finds a little alarming. He nods towards the next spot on the carpet. “It looks like they’re ready for whoever wants to go next.”

“You think we made him jealous?” Vaughan asks, winking at her, and Aelin snickers, sliding out of his arms. He hangs onto her elbows until Aelin’s stilettos are firmly returned to the ground.

“Of course, I’m jealous,” Rowan responds sarcastically. He leads them towards the next interviewer on the carpet, Aedion and Lysandra having moved on. She smiles at the fact that she’ll get to walk the rest of the carpet with them. “You never carry me around when I ask, V. It’s so unfair. Aelin’s always gotten special treatment as the girl.”

“Hey!” Aelin barks back, ready for a fight.

Vaughan’s laugh sounds so warm and familiar to Aelin that it makes her chest ache, and she forgets all about whatever she was going to say to Rowan. She’s _missed_ him. The bassist holds his hands out towards Rowan, chasing slowly after the silver-haired man’s retreating figure. Rowan looks like he regrets his snark already.

“C’mere big guy,” Vaughan beckons, grinning. “I got ya.”

##  **Vaughan Phillips Carries Rowan Whitethorn Down Red Carpet.**

The fuss continues. Aelin stops to answer a few questions about her upcoming album, managing to redirect them towards the topic at hand. The women’s foundation. Moments like these, she’s thankful for her upbringing amongst Doranelle’s elite. These media types will use each and every opportunity to get more information out of her.

“Keep smiling, Galathynius,” Lorcan says without moving his lips. He appeared at her side during the last interview, scaring the daylights out of her and nearly ruining her hair. Aelin’s happy to have his emotional support, though, along with Vaughan and Rowan, who trail behind them.

If it weren’t for the noticeable absence of the twins and their chaos, the gang would be all together again. Aelin isn’t sure where Fenrys and Connall are, but she hopes they’re out there somewhere. It’s been far too long since the last time The Cadre was under one roof together.

“This is a fucking charity event,” she hisses through her teeth, smiling brightly for the camera. Someone calls for them to look their way, but Aelin can’t place who. She aims her smile in that general direction. “Who fucking cares how many songs are on my album?”

Lorcan’s body shakes with barely contained laughter. She can feel it where their arms press together, posing for the photo op. “Fucking everyone, Ace. That’s who.”

“Gross,” Aelin sneers. This time Lorcan’s laugh escapes, vibrant and booming, and Aelin beams at him. They’re both in a considerably better mood than they were the last time they hung out. She wonders if her idiot drummer has made any progress with that crush of his.

A deep frown is her answer when Aelin asks Lorcan as much through her smile. She sighs deeply, wanting to roll her eyes at him. Of course, things are just as dumb as ever between them. Aelin narrows her eyes his way. “You better fix it, Lorcan Salvaterre. We’ll be on tour together soon.”

“Can’t wait,” he deadpans. Aelin elbows him, and his hisses.

##  **An (Almost) Cadre Reunion!**

Aelin can honestly say that she never thought the day would come that she would witness Dorian Havilliard link arms with her mother and greet guests. But there they were, standing together at the entrance, waiting to greet Aelin and her bandmates, chatting amicably and smiling from ear to ear.

“Fuck!” Aelin blurts. “I totally busted my ass out there and hit my head, huh?” she asks, watching Evalin and Rowan embrace in a hug. Vaughan and Dorian shake hands, and Lorcan barks a laugh at Aelin’s words. “What the fuck are you two doing together?”

“ _Aelin_ ,” her mother scolds. “We’re in public!”

“So?” Aelin contends. Dorian’s too-bright smile enters her line of sight, and begrudgingly, Aelin accepts his hug. But her suspicion holds, and she frowns over his shoulder at her mother with narrowed eyes. “When did you two become friends?” She turns her gaze on Dorian. “You’ve infiltrated my family! How?”

Evalin sighs at her daughter. It makes everyone smile knowingly, their eyes all falling to Aelin, and she huffs, offended by their fondness. “Dorian was kind enough to donate the space for me, Aelin. He _cares_ about my cause.”

“Yeah, Aelin,” Dorian echoes, teasing. He sounds like a little brother, which is just weird. They haven’t told anyone about their negotiations yet, just the twins and the lawyers, but Aelin knows it’s only a matter of time until they figure it all out. She rolls her eyes at him. “I _care_ about… _things_.”

“About women,” Vaughan supplies. “This is for a women’s foundation—social justice matters more specifically.” Of course, Vaughan’s done all the reading.

“Oh! I _love_ women!” Dorian exclaims, earning a round of laughter.

“Perhaps a little too much,” Aelin teases. Dorian glares her way.

Before they can get into it, a peal of small, sweet laughter catches Aelin’s attention. She searches for the source of the noise, recognizing the laugh right away. She finds Thea is sitting at a table with none other than Fenrys and Connall, giggling as Connall wears a napkin as a party hat.

Rowan swears under his breath. “Who left my child in the hands of those two idiots?”

The father is gone in a flash, making his way quickly to check on his daughter. Aelin smiles as she watches him go, but the look soon fades when she catches her mother watching her, wearing a smile of her own.

“What?” Aelin’s voice comes out more defensive than intended.

Evalin just pulls her daughter in for a hug, kissing the top of her head and earning a groan. “I’m just glad to see you so happy, Fireheart. Just so glad.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares _A Family Photo_ of The Cadre, plus “Honorary Member” Thea!**

“Daddy!” Thea screams. Her voice rises above the din of applause as the lights rise on stage to reveal her father and his favorite guitar. The emerald green of Lucy’s paint job sparkles in the stage lights; it makes Aelin inexplicably happy to see Rowan holding that guitar again.

Thea is standing in her chair, overwhelmed by the sight of her father onstage. “That’s _Daddy!_ ”

Aelin winces as the little girl’s voice breaks the sound barrier. Rowan’s child has some healthy lungs.

“It sure is! He’s going to sing for us.” Aelin grins at the little girl, holding out her hands and inviting Thea to climb into her lap where it feels safer for her to be. The toddler declines the invitation, but Aelin’s hands stay outstretched just in case.

“Sing! SING!” Thea hops in her chair. Evalin sits on the opposite side of Thea, mirroring her daughter in preparation for disaster; they share a smile around their charge, equally amused.

“How’d you pull that off?” Aelin asks, nodding towards Rowan. He looks uncomfortable up there, with nothing but Lucy as his shield. “He wouldn’t even sing on my album.”

Evalin’s smile is familiar; Aelin recognizes it as the look her mother gets when she’s pulled off something truly sinister. “I might’ve had some help.”

“Who…” Aelin’s mother looks pointedly toward Thea, and Aelin gasps, fighting off a smile. “That’s evil!”

“It’s for charity.” Her mother shrugs as the audience lights dim further.

##  **Here’s the List of Celebrity Performances…**

Rowan isn’t the kind of guy to do a speech or introduction. Aelin recognizes that his place in the lineup was strategic, set right after a few other critical performers so that way he could appear, play a few tunes, and run away. Aelin smiles. Rowan will have his moment, quick and painful as it is, and then he’ll sneak away to grouch about it for days.

Gods, Aelin loves the bastard.

The crowd is silent. But Thea shouts, “Sing! Daddy! _Sing_!”

Aelin’s heart squeezes as everyone laughs. A smile breaks out on Rowan’s face, genuine and happy, fingers hovering above the fretboard. It’s an expression not many people see from him; Aelin likes seeing him let his guard down a little in public.

“Well, you guys heard her,” he says to another round of laughter. Rowan shrugs. “This is Drops of Jupiter.”

The piano begins, Connall hunched over the keys, and Aelin discovers that she’s a little bit jealous that Rowan gets to play with the twins tonight, even if she kind of hates the sneaky brothers at the moment.

> _Now that she’s back in the atmosphere  
>  With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey  
> She acts like summer and walks like rain  
> Reminds me that there’s a-time to change, hey, hey  
> Since the return of her stay on the moon  
> She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey  
> Hey, hey_

Fenrys joins the song, playing the guitar accompaniment. Yeah, Aelin is totally jealous right now. It’s nothing against her current band, the one she tours with; she loves all of them. But she misses playing with these assholes, misses jamming with them on tour buses and singing potential new lyrics with them on long flights home.

She meets Lorcan’s eye at the table next to her, a frown on his face. It would seem he’s feeling the same. Aelin makes a face at him, causing Vaughan to grin from beside Lor. She makes a mental note to get everyone together in one place again.

> _Now that she’s back from that soul vacation  
>  Tracing her way through the constellation, hey, hey  
> She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo  
> Reminds me that there’s a-room to grow, hey, hey, yeah_
> 
> _Now that she’s back in the atmosphere  
>  I’m afraid that she might think of me as  
> Plain ol’ Jane, told a story about a man  
> Who is too afraid to fly so he never did land_

A glance at her parents tells Aelin that they’re enraptured by the performance, leaning on one another as her mother mouths the words. Her father watches his wife instead of the performance, smiling down at Evalin. The sight strikes Aelin with love and with a little longing. It’s little moments like these that it really hits her how much her parents really love each other—not that she didn’t know before.

Evalin smiles at Aelin when she catches her watching, sends her a wink. Aelin doesn’t know what that’s about; she turns her attention to Thea, just in time to find the little girl hopping off of her chair and onto the ground. Aelin’s heart lurches. No one ever told Aelin about how many years she’d lose of her life worrying over a child.

Green eyes peer up at Aelin, a smile on Thea’s face.

“Dance!” She cheers, holding out one little hand. Aelin isn’t sure if it’s an invitation or an order.

> _Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken  
>  Your best friend always sticking up for you  
> Even when I know you’re wrong?  
> Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance  
> Five-hour phone conversation  
> The best soy latte that you ever had, and me?_

Aelin and Thea move off to the side of the audience, where the little girl can dance her heart out without being in the way. The woman can feel the eyes of more than a few people watching the two of them dance together, but Aelin ignores them, holding Thea’s fingers as the toddler twirls. She discovers that the skirt of her dress flares up when she spins, and Thea becomes obsessed with the move. It makes everyone smile.

Lysandra and Aedion join in the fun, her cousin dragging along behind his fiance. Lysandra’s ring glints in the lights; it used to belong to Aedion’s mother, but now it belongs to her. Aelin smiles at the couple watching them dance between glances at the stage, not wanting to miss out on Rowan’s rare performance.

> _But tell me  
>  Did the wind sweep you off your feet?  
> Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day  
> And head back toward the Milky Way?_
> 
> _And tell me  
>  Did you sail across the sun?  
> Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded  
> And that Heaven is overrated?_

> _And tell me  
>  Did you fall from a shooting star  
> One without a permanent scar?  
> And did you miss me while you were  
> Looking for yourself?_

Rowan sings the outro, playing his guitar with ease and singing at the same time. The twins begin to provide backup vocals, harmonizing with Rowan’s baritone. It’s like they never stopped playing together; there’s a certain familiarity that comes from playing alongside another person for so many years. It’s nice to see that it hasn’t faded.

> _Na-na, na-na, na-na  
>  Na-na, na-na, na-na  
> And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_

The crowd sings along with them. It’s nice to see Rowan like this, Aelin thinks, as the center of attention for a change. Usually, it’s Aelin up there, soaking up the limelight and drawing everyone’s focus to her and away from anything else.

Although he’d deny it to his last breath, Aelin knows that Rowan always liked the adrenaline rush of performance. He hated all of the fanfare and lack of anonymity that came with being in a recognizable band, but Rowan does love to make and play music. She wonders if he misses touring with the group. With her.

> _And are you lonely looking for yourself out there?_

As the music fades, Aedion lifts Thea up and into his arms, so that she can better see Rowan. The little girl claps, cheering for her father earnestly, and Rowan’s eyes find Thea instinctively, flicking over to Aelin as well. A smile escapes him again, pleased, before he remembers himself and moves onto the next song in his set.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn Performs _Leaving My Love Behind_ and more!**

Aelin escorts Thea to the ladies’ room later that night. They hold hands while weaving through the crowds, sharing polite smiles with the people in attendance. Thea doesn’t like the strangers who approach her, clinging to Aelin’s leg and avoiding eye contact until Aelin hurries them along.

It probably shouldn’t, but it fills Aelin with a sense of pride to be one of the few that Thea trusts. A few months ago, the little girl wouldn’t even talk to her.

“I can do it myself!” Thea declares when Aelin tries to go into the bathroom stall with her. Aelin puts her hands up in surrender. The toddler’s independence has grown a lot lately; she gets agitated when people assume she needs help, especially when she does, in fact, need it.

“Um, okay then,” Aelin says. The restroom they’re using is empty except for them. “Just don’t fall in. My mother will kill me.”

“Why would I do that?” Thea grumbles at Aelin, looking at the adult as if Aelin is stupid. She marches inside the stall and gets to work. Aelin struggles to suppress the smile that threatens. Sometimes, there’s no mistaking who this kid belongs to.

Aelin plants herself in front of the stall, guarding Thea because she knows that the toddler can’t manage the locks. She doesn’t have the guts to bring it up, though; nothing good would come out of that. Aelin flashes a smile at people as they pass through the bathroom, and it should be a little weird, taking Rowan’s kid to the toilet for him, but it’s actually kind of nice.

She waits a little while longer, wondering how much time is too long to leave Thea to her own devices. Aelin listens to the flush of the toilet and then the scuffle of shoes. There’s a heavy pause, and then a sigh that Aelin would swear came from Rowan if she didn’t know better.

“Help!” Thea yelps at last.

Aelin bites her lip to hide her smile and heads to the rescue. She finds Thea twisted in her dress, skirt tucked into her underwear, and a deep frown on her face.

“How’d you pull that off, Potato?” She asks, coming into the stall and righting the girl’s clothes.

Thea’s cheeks are pink with frustration; her green eyes bright in the yellow lights of the bathroom. “Dresses are stupid!”

Aelin’s laugh is lighthearted. “But you look so cute.”

“I look _stupid_ ,” Thea hisses, allowing Aelin to aid her in washing her hands. She’s too short to reach the sink on her own, making her temper flare in that mysterious way only a toddler can understand. “I hate it.”

“Well, I think you look very pretty, Thea— like a princess.” Aelin turns her charge around gently, smiling softly at her. Thea is unpersuaded on the matter, waiting impatiently for her hands to dry under the machine.

“You don’t have a dress on,” she accuses.

It’s not a question, but Aelin still answers. “You’re right. I don’t.” Aelin leans in, wiggling her eyebrows, and Thea giggles, breaking her scowl at last. “I’m going to perform tonight, and the last time I did that in a dress, I showed everyone my underpants.”

Her charge is mortified by that idea. Thea’s eyes are big, and she stops walking to gape at Aelin. The adult chuckles, but Thea doesn’t find Aelin’s story all that funny. She tells Aelin in a matter of fact voice, “Daddy says you aren’t supposed to show people your underwear.”

“Your father is a wise man,” Aelin says solemnly, offering her hand to Thea as they exit the bathroom. She links their fingers together and leads them back towards their table where Rowan and Aelin’s parents await their return. “And don’t you ever forget that, got it?”

Thea nods seriously.

Essar is waiting for Aelin at the table, sitting in Aelin’s seat and speaking animatedly with Rowan about something she can’t hear. Her assistant has that twitchy look about her that she gets when she’s stressing about something, and Thea eyes the new person with suspicion, tugging at her dad’s arm to get him to hold her and keep her safe. A daddy’s girl, for sure.

“Oh!” Essar looks relieved when she notices Aelin. “I was just about to go get you myself.”

Aelin rolls her eyes at Essar, poking her in the side. “You’re in my chair.”

“And you’re about to be late for your call time,” her mother teases.

Aelin is surprised by the news; the evening has flown by. She’s a little sorry to see it over so soon; she’s had a lot of fun tonight. A glance towards her parents confirms it; Evalin leans heavily into her husband, resting between speaking moments. Aelin smiles at them.

“Yes!” Her assistant agrees with Evalin. “The PA is getting all flustered that you won’t be ready in time. So, I’d say it’s time to head back there. Lorcan and the rest of the band are already waiting.”

The singer sighs dramatically. “I paid 5k for a chair, and I barely even get to sit on it.”

“How charitable of you,” Rowan says, eyes sparkling with mirth. His chin is propped atop Thea’s, who has begun diligently mashing french fries into her mouth. Despite the hour, the little girl is wide awake, but that could be because of the nap she took backstage a while ago. Aelin should have joined her.

Essar rises from Aelin’s chair, linking arms with Aelin. The singer wouldn’t put it past her assistant not to drag her forcibly backstage. Aelin rolls her eyes again, bidding goodbye dramatically. “I suppose I’ll go earn my keep now.”

“About damn time,” her father tells her drily. Evalin smacks him on the shoulder, eyes still closed.

Rowan smiles at her. He’s the only nice one at this table, Aelin decides. “Have a good show, Ace.”

“Don’t show people your underwear!” Thea shouts around a mouthful of food, startling Aelin’s parents and causing Rowan to snort mid-sip of his whiskey; that has got to hurt. The expression in his green eyes makes Aelin laugh the whole way to the green room.

##  **Will Aelin Galathynius Perform A New Song Tonight?**


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me apologizing in advance for all the lyrics. I lied, and this chapter is just Aelin’s performance… The after-party will be next; there are so many characters there that it’s a lot to wrangle. Enjoy!

##  **Aelin Galathynius Steals the Show with Her Risky Carpet Look.**

“By the gods!” Aelin exclaims as she follows Elide into a dressing room, tucked away from prying eyes. Manon and Asterin wait for her impatiently, garment bags hanging from a rack. “How many outfits did you guys _bring?_ ”

She has to wonder when any of this was planned; Aelin will be the first to admit that she hasn’t been paying the best of attention during her planning sessions of late. Between working on her album and adjusting to new medications, Aelin was too busy to worry about dressing herself for these events. That’s where Manon came in.

The stylist in question rolls her eyes. “I expected that by this time of night, you’d already ruined all of my hard work.” Aelin scowls, but Manon only shrugs her delicate shoulders, indifferent to offending the international pop star. Aelin isn’t sure anyone scares Manon.

“We know how much to like to cry,” Manon adds, drumming her pointy manicure on the vanity. “Now go get dressed, so we can assess the look.”

Aelin opens her mouth to say something smart to her demanding stylist when Essar stops her, tossing undergarments at the blonde’s face and echoing Manon’s orders for Aelin to get dressed. She huffs, catching the tights as they fall into her hands, and Aelin narrows her eyes at her people.

“You guys do remember that I’m _your_ boss, right?” Aelin asks, taking a moment to glare at each individual. No one seems all that intimidated. “You can’t order me around like this.”

“But I can!” Asterin chirps, holding a navy, sequined romper over Aelin’s front. “I’m not getting paid for this. So, put this on, so you don’t ruin your carpet outfit stage.”

Aelin is moments from commenting on the term _carpet outfit_ when Manon snaps her fingers impatiently and points towards the bathroom. They have a few more sets before Aelin’s performance, but it wasn’t actually all that much time in the grand scheme of things. The thought of getting on stage makes Aelin forget any previous exhaustion.

“I have to pee,” she growls, backing down from the fight and disappearing into the bathroom. The other women in the room laugh knowingly; it’s common knowledge that Aelin has a nervous bladder. Small mercies that there’s no teasing when she returns.

After changing, Asterin shoves her feet into a pair of white ankle-length Go-Go boots. It makes Aelin miss the days of wearing combat boots onstage with the band, but she doesn’t think those shoes would go with Manon’s carefully crafted look. She gets her makeup freshened up, and then she’s on her way.

Brullo leads her through a maze of doors and halls, and Ress takes up the rear. Essar babbles about some of the assistants she’s met, all of them vying for who has the worst—or best—celebrity boss, and Aelin giggles through the gossip. Essar, of course, promises that she’s the best.

“You’re a liar,” she tells her assistant with a smile. “But, I appreciate you just the same.”

Essar winks. They enter the dark area of the stage, finding stagehands at the ready. There’s a soft echo of “ _heard”_ throughout the space as the PA to Aelin’s right announces her arrival. Everyone moves efficiently to get everything into place before the switch.

An arm coils around Aelin’s neck, yanking her into an undignified headlock; she doesn’t panic this time, knowing precisely who the troublemaker is. She threatens Cassian Guerra with a string of the foulest words in her vocabulary, feeling rather than hearing Cassian’s laughter through where her back and his chest meet.

“Do. Not. Ruin her hair,” Manon hisses. The stylist must look particularly vicious as she threatens the musician; Cassian’s arm drops away from her shoulders immediately. When Aelin looks at him, he’s pale in the blue wash of lights backstage, but fear may have also stolen all of his color.

“Gross,” Aelin complains. “You’re sweaty.”

Cassian laughs. His smile is crude. “You know you like it.”

Aelin’s heart leaps at the sound of her mother beginning her introduction. She can’t decide if it’s from dread or excitement or terror or what, but the culmination of feelings makes her feel a little nauseous. Cassian sees this and takes sympathy on her.

He nudges her gently. “Break a leg, Ace.”

Aelin flashes him a weary smile. “I don’t need your negativity in my life.”

Cassian laughs at the joke, but he salutes and leaves the wings as Aelin’s mother says her name. The crowd cheers for her as they set the stage. Lorcan and Elide are already out there, leading the band through the changeover. Aelin waits for her cue, and then it’s time to go.

##  **Cassian Guerra Walked Red Carpet—Alone?**

The lights are as blinding as ever as she takes the stage, grinning at the audience, and waiting for their applause to fade. Aelin tells the crowd, “Good evening, Doranelle!”

The applause returns, and Aelin can’t help but smile at her invisible crowd, hidden behind the brilliant white of the stage lights. She imagines their cheering faces, pictures the people at home watching the concert from their couch and remembers her family and friends in the audience.

Aelin both loves and hates it when anyone close to her attends one of her shows. There’s something about knowing that they’re out there watching that makes her nervous, especially when it’s her parents. Or Rowan.

“I’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight—or tuning in from home,” she says. Elide and Lorcan keep the music going even as Aelin runs that infamous mouth of hers. Unlike Rowan, she _loves_ to talk. “Honestly, I’m just impressed any of you are still awake.”

The audience laughs; Aelin can feel her mother rolling her eyes at her snark. Elide starts to play the intro to their first song, and Aelin takes the cue. “This is _Light On_.”

> _Would you believe me now  
>  If I told you I got caught up in a wave?  
> Almost gave it away  
> Would you hear me out  
> If I told you I was terrified for days?  
> Thought I was gonna breakOh, I couldn’t stop it  
> Tried to slow it all down  
> Crying in the bathroom  
> Had to figure it out  
> With everyone around me saying  
> “You must be so happy now”_

Aelin didn’t mean for the last line to be so pointed, but she writes from the heart. Sometimes, it comes out more direct than other times. Elide joins her for the chorus, providing backup vocals and harmonizing with her voice. Aelin is a little envious of her for getting to play at the same time. She gets uncomfortable without an instrument in front of her at times, especially when she’s not dancing.

Standing still and singing is somehow harder than singing while also doing something else.

There was talk of her doing a full-out number, singing, dancing, and the works, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to go all out like that. This was for charity; it wasn’t some award show where everyone was trying to outshine the other. Tonight was about coming together for a common cause. So, she put her foot down. The record company gave in, but they made sure to make it know how unhappy they were about it.

Aelin can’t wait to be free of them. She wonders what it must be like not to feel like some puppet on a string, put out on display to please the masses, and then tucked away when they don’t need her. She’s very excited to leave Adarlan Records, even if the parting will be bittersweet.

She just needs to tell them as much. Oops.

> _And do you believe me now  
>  That I always had the best intentions, babe?  
> Always wanted to stay  
> Can you feel me now  
> That I’m vulnerable in oh-so many ways?  
> Oh, and I’ll never changeOh, I couldn’t stop it  
> Tried to figure it out  
> But everything kept moving  
> And the noise got too loud  
> With everyone around me saying  
> “You should be so happy now”_

There’s no fighting her smile when the crowd begins to sing along. Aelin thinks that there are very few things as awesome as when the audience knows the words to a song; even if the crowd is smaller than her usual shows, it’s still just as amazing. It makes her happy to hear it; it encourages her to keep playing. Maybe it’s a little arrogant, but it makes Aelin proud to know that people care enough about her music to remember the words.

Or, maybe the radio has just bludgeoned the words into their brains. Semantics.

> _Oh, if you keep reaching out  
>  Then I’ll keep coming back  
> And if you’re gone for good  
> Then I’m okay with that  
> And if you leave the light on  
> Then I’ll leave the light on  
> And I am finding out  
> There’s just no other way  
> That I’m still dancing at the end of the day  
> And if you leave the light on  
> Then I’ll leave the light on_

It’s hard not to wonder how transparent she is when putting out new music. Everything she writes comes straight from her life; even if the main subject of a song is imaginary, bits and pieces of her life and her feelings always sneak their way into Aelin’s lyrics. It’s just part of sharing her art with the word, making herself vulnerable like that.

Worse is the matter as to whether or not they know the subject of Aelin’s new song is sitting out there with them, likely trying to get his kid to sit still. Aelin has to stop herself before she can get started thinking about Rowan. She’ll definitely mess up then, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing—to fuck up the words to her song? Live?

> _Oh, leave the light on  
>  Oh, would you leave the light on?_

Elide’s vocals soften as they near the end of the song, giving Aelin’s voice emphasis. Though it might be her first official single for the album, Aelin has already played a few other songs live via her social media channels. Adarlan has always plugged the official recordings of those individual songs onto her album, a cheap ploy to lure her fans into buying the records.

She’s started to wonder if maybe she isn’t secretive enough to be a superstar. Ah, too late, she supposes.

##  **Aelin Performs _Light On, Death By A Thousand Cuts,_ and More!**

In between songs, Aelin sends a friendly smile at the stagehand that brings her guitar. The next song in her set isn’t one Aelin ever really expected to perform. She wrote it for a movie soundtrack, recorded it in two days, and sent it out into the world; no one expected this little track from a movie to be so popular.

Yet, here she was, playing the first few notes and listening as the crowd cheers when they place it. There’s no “official” mix for the band to play with this song; Aelin’s never performed it live before. So, it’s just her and a guitar for this one.

“Sing along if you know the words!” Aelin calls out, beginning to play.

> _Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts  
>  Flashbacks waking me up  
> I get drunk, but it’s not enough  
> ‘Cause the morning comes and you’re not my baby  
> I look through the windows of this love  
> Even though we boarded them up  
> Chandelier still flickering here  
> 'Cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not  
> It’s death by a thousand cuts_

The band slips away, and the lights change from illuminating the entire stage to just Aelin. There’s just a spotlight on her, simple and easy. It brings the focus down to one singular point, and Aelin struggles not to feel the pressure of the moment. She wishes she could stop second-guessing herself. This far into her career, one would expect her to still be filled with such doubt.

Aelin isn’t quite as comfortable with the guitar as she would be behind a piano, but still, she’s more content like this than she would be with her hands empty. Besides, this gives her a chance to show off how much she’s improved on the guitar to Rowan.

She pushes herself to focus on the song, but more importantly, Aelin reminds herself to enjoy it. Who cares about what people will have to say tomorrow about her performance? Who gives a shit about her stupid record company and their greedy hands? The next three minutes is just about her and the guitar—and a room full of people singing along.

The bridge comes sooner than she expects it to.

> _My heart, my hips, my body, my love  
>  Tryna find a part of me that you didn’t touch  
> Gave up on me like I was a bad drug  
> Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club  
> Our songs, our films, united, we stand  
> Our country, guess it was a lawless land  
> Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand  
> Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans_

Aelin claps her hand against the guitar’s body, breaking the song pattern. It’s one of her favorite ways to place emphasis on something. As the lights catch the royal blue paint, Aelin notices that it kind of matches her outfit for the show. She smiles internally at Manon’s cleverness.

> _My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust  
>  Tryna find a part of me you didn’t take up  
> Gave you so much, but it wasn’t enough  
> But I’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts_

The cheers fill the space between one line and the next. Aelin plays, progressing onward to the chorus to wrap up the song. She doesn’t get to perform solo much these days, just during her impromptu live sessions with stripped-down versions of her pop music; maybe, she should make a point to do so more often.

Aelin looks out into the audience imagining their faces, slowing her playing.

> _I take the long way home  
>  I ask the traffic lights if it’ll be alright  
> They say, “I don’t know”_

##  **Watch Aelin Galathynius’s Stripped Down _Death By A Thousand Cuts._**

It takes all of two notes for the crowd to identify the next song. She grins in what she guesses to be Rowan’s general direction. Aelin can’t really see him through the front of house lights, but it’s not hard to imagine his expression—a scowling combination of alarm and irritation.

When the crowd figures out what she’s doing, they scream. Aelin laughs lightly at them, already begging for Rowan’s forgiveness in her head. Her friend is about to be very upset with her.

“Good, you all know the song,” she jests, earning a few chuckles. “If you didn’t, that would’ve been _awkward_.” She breaks the word up and grins as they laugh.

Aelin replays the intro notes. “So, I’m going to need a little bit of help for this next song,” she tells the audience. “Any volunteers out there?”

She can hear Lorcan’s booming laugh from behind her, and Elide’s lips are threatening to smile when Aelin looks her way. A few members of the audience offer their assistance, and Aelin laughs as she remembers she’s in a room full of musicians. In the horrible event that Rowan refuses her, at least Aelin has some other options. She prays that it isn’t necessary.

Aelin plays the intro a third time, and Elide joins in for effect. The longer she waits, the more she starts to worry about her decision to spring this on Rowan. It was a last-minute decision, encouraged by Lorcan’s troublesome smile; it’ll be really embarrassing if she has to sing their song with someone else. She swallows, trying to chase away her doubts and nerves, and flashes the crowd another smile.

 _Rowan_. The audience calls, encouraging him. Gods, Aelin wishes she could see the bastard.

When the applause breaks out, Aelin looks to her right. Rowan enters from stage left, scowling in Aelin’s direction; he accepts Elide’s microphone and nods. Relief washes over Aelin; she beams at him, wiggling her brows and restarting the song one last time.

Thankfully, this time Rowan sings.

> _Tell me somethin’, girl  
>  Are you happy in this modern world?  
> Or do you need more?  
> Is there somethin’ else you’re searchin’ for?_

> _I’m falling  
>  In all the good times I find myself  
> Longin’ for change  
> And in the bad times I fear myself_

It feels a little odd to play this part of the song; Aelin’s always considered it to be Rowan’s part as the primary guitarist in the band. A glance his way tells her that he’s feeling just as uncomfortable without an instrument as Aelin was earlier. Two peas in a pod.

Elide smirks at him, resting her hands on the body of her electric green guitar as if she thinks Rowan might try and take it from her. Aelin wouldn’t put it past him.

Aelin doesn’t look at Lorcan behind the drum set; she knows he’s watching them all right now, grinning like the devil and waiting for his moment.

> _Tell me something, boy  
>  Aren’t you tired tryin’ to fill that void?  
> Or do you need more?  
> Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?_

Aelin catches herself watching Rowan as he steals the piano for himself, and she reminds herself to pay attention to the audience and not him. Aelin sends a silent thank you to the crew running this show; they’re probably cursing her name right now in the booth.

When Rowan starts to play, Aelin bites back a grin at the role reversal. She can’t sing and smile at the same time.

> _I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in  
>  I’ll never meet the ground  
> Crash through the surface, where they can’t hurt us  
> We’re far from the shallow nowIn the shallow, shallow  
> In the shallow, shallow  
> In the shallow, shallow  
> We’re far from the shallow now_

Aelin feels the silent shift in the band as they prepare to join in. Elide shifts into place, and Lorcan moves behind her, where she can’t see him. The rest of the band follows their lead, and Rowan makes eye contact with her for the next part. Despite his earlier frown, Rowan grins her way; it makes her glad to see him so happy to play with her again.

> _In the shallow, shallow  
>  In the shallow, shallow  
> In the shallow, shallow  
> We’re far from the shallow now_

The piano begins to build in intensity, and Elide and Lorcan finally get their opportunity to show off.

> _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh  
>  Whoah_

> _I’m off the deep end, watch as I dive in_

Watching Elide play, Aelin is struck with the realization that the world-class guitarist is much cooler than any of them. Aelin wonders what it’d be like to get her in a room with The Cadre; she’d probably beat them all into submission with nothing more than one indifferent look.

There’s the briefest moment where Aelin succumbs to the thought that Adarlan would never let Aelin play with her old band again, but then she remembers something marvelous: Aelin doesn’t work for them anymore.

> _We’re far from the shallow now…_

Rowan and Aelin wrap the song up without major disaster. They share a smile as the music fades to nothing, but Aelin returns her attention to the crowd as they applaud for the impromptu duet. She thanks them for their praise, and then directs them to clap for her band. And for Rowan.

“Thank you all again for coming out tonight and for your donations,” Aelin thanks the crowd, as Lorcan goofs around on the drums to draw out the moment. Her mother appears on stage, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arm around her daughter’s waist.

Aelin rests her head on her mother’s shoulder, giving the focus away. This is her mother’s night. Her mother’s cause. The only reason any of them is here tonight is because of Evalin’s hard work and devotion. She smiles for the crowd, for the cameras recording the whole thing.

Before Evalin can close the concert, Aelin holds her hands out towards her mother, encouraging a round of applause for her mom. She’s never seen her mother look so shy before.

Someone brushes against her arm, and Aelin looks up and into Rowan’s smiling eyes. They’re filled with exasperation; it’s a common expression on his face whenever Aelin is involved. He doesn’t say anything, but the silver-haired man does reach out and flick her nose, making her scowl in front of everyone as the lights dim.

##  **Former Bandmate, Rowan Whitethorn, Joins Aelin Galathynius On Stage!**

Thea is waiting with Aedion in the wings. The little girl bounces up and down, likely made more hyper by staying up past her bedtime. She squeals when Rowan sweeps her off her feet to twirl her around, and Aelin smiles at the two. The Rowan from The Cadre days would never have been so open with his affections, but becoming a father seems to have softened his resolve on the matter. It’s nice.

A nudge to her ribs brings Aelin’s eyes away from the father-daughter duo. Lysandra wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at Aelin, and the blonde glares at her, silently begging her friend to mind her own business. Something about being happy and in love has made Lys even more meddlesome than usual.

“Kitten!” Lysandra calls, closing the distance between herself and Rowan and Thea. The little girl smiles at Lys, clinging to her father. Her exhaustion must be catching up with her.

Aedion shoots a questioning his cousin’s way, and Aelin shakes her head in exasperation. The explanation comes quickly, though, as Lys asks the little girl, “How would you like to have a slumber party?”

Thea nods in response, but she’s quickly fading. Rowan looks like he’s about to protest, but the model cuts him off with a wave of her hand, reaching for the little girl and taking her into her arms.

“You go celebrate,” Lysandra orders him. “When’s the last time you went to an after-party?”

He furrows his brow at her, but the model sweeps away from him before anyone can argue with her. Aedion laughs, sending Aelin a look that tells her that her cousin knows precisely what his future wife is up to. His Ashryver eyes sparkle with mischief, and he leaves with Lysandra, sparing Aelin a quick hug as he goes.

Rowan stares after them, mouth hanging open a little. “She just _stole_ my daughter.”

Aelin laughs at his outrage, closing the distance between them and linking their arms together. “So, what do you say, Buzzard?”

He raises his brow at her. _About what?_

“Wanna go to the party?” She knows her smile is wicked as she thinks it over. “Think you can manage to stay up any later? I know it’s already past your bedtime.”

He laughs at that, smiling fondly. “When you have a kid, you learn to sleep when they do,” he explains. “This is Thea’s world, and I’m just living in it.”

“Profound words,” she coos, leading him away from the stage so that the crew can get to work. She’s sure they’re all ready to be finished.

Rowan follows her, but he aims a curious look her way. “This is a charity event. There aren’t any after-parties for those.”

Aelin shrugs indifferently. “You get this many famous people in one place, and there’s _always_ an after-party. More than one, even.” She looks thoughtful before wiggling her eyebrows at him. “And if not, I can always throw one. I throw great parties.”

He laughs, changing their positioning so that his arm lays across her shoulders as they walk back to Aelin’s dressing room. “I have no doubt about that.”

##  **Evalin Galathynius Proves She Can Still Plan A Party.**

Essar and Asterin are waiting for her when Aelin arrives, already armed with her next outfit. They tell her something about sponsorships and how Essar got a few brands to donate to the cause in exchange for Aelin wearing their things. Typically, the brands pay Aelin for wearing their clothes; she thinks this makes a better alternative.

“Where exactly do we propose that my boobs go?” Aelin asks, eyeing the red jumpsuit in her hands skeptically. Her fourth outfit of the day—if one counted the loungewear she wore to the park with Fleetfoot.

The bustier-style top does not look promising, Aelin thinks, but Asterin smiles, sending her what Aelin guesses is supposed to be a reassuring wink. Aelin frowns at her.

“Remember Rule #1: The _girls,”_ Aelin waves towards her chest, “don’t get to go out in public.”

A choking sound from the corner of the room grabs Aelin’s attention. She looks over just in time to see Rowan ruffle his hair uncomfortably. Pink stains the top of his ears, and he edges towards the exit, smiling sheepishly.

“I-uh. I’ll be waiting in with Ress,” he tells her quickly. He’s gone before Aelin can stop him.

“Hm,” Manon hums, clicking her tongue thoughtfully. “We should’ve gone with the lacy one,” she tells her cousin. “How red do you think that one would’ve had him?”

Asterin cackles, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “I think we could get him to match the jumpsuit.”

The cousins break into laughter, and Aelin struggles to glare at them for their meddling. She wants to be upset with them, to tell them to knock it off before things go awry, but Aelin has to admit it. She kind enjoys making Rowan Whitethorn blush and stammer like a teenager.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Leaves Charity Event with Rowan Whitethorn.**


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about 7k... Enjoy!

##  **See Aelin Galathynius’s Daring After-Party Outfit!**

It’s a struggle for Aelin not to worry as she leaves the event with Rowan. Even taking the private exit from the club turned concert, the cameras manage to find them. Aelin knows it’s purposeful, of course, that she’s wearing this precarious outfit for the sole purpose of being photographed in it, but—still.

It’s no secret that the two of them are friends again; yet, her mind frets over the consequences for Rowan. It’s not a small thing for anyone to be seen with her, especially someone Aelin shares, as the media would call it, a _tumultuous_ relationship with.

It’s always been a game for the media, puzzling out her life and pairing her with whatever guy Aelin was seen with last—some she’d never met before. Her gaze falls to Rowan, who chats amicably with Ress as they wait inside the doors for the car. What would they say about Rowan and Aelin going out together? How would Rowan feel about it? What about Thea?

Ress receives word from Brullo that he’s ready. On the other side of the door, the cameras lie in waiting, and suddenly, Aelin’s steps falter. They’re looking for her—for them.

As if sensing her thoughts, Rowan’s eyes find hers. _I can block you from them._

_Think I need protection, Buzzard?_ Aelin challenges him with a quirked brow. She wiggles her shoulders to emphasize her outfit. _Manon didn’t squeeze me into this thing for nothing._

Rowan’s eyes drop to her cleavage for just a second, but it’s enough to send a thrill through Aelin. His eyes dart back up to her face too quickly, then away from her altogether. Aelin bites the inside of her cheek to hide her pleased grin. She doesn’t blame him, really; her boobs do look _great_ in this jumpsuit.

As she follows the men out into the street, Aelin reminds herself about what Rowan said, that he didn’t want her to walk away from him. He knows better than most, just what that means. Both agreed they weren’t going to worry about the public's perception.

In the end, Rowan told her he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about their friendship; he just wanted to make sure Thea was protected at all costs. Aelin agreed wholeheartedly with this, even as her heart sank at that terrible word— _friendship._

Still, Aelin did worry. A lot. Because Rowan’s words were kind to hear, of course, but saying them and living them were two very different things.

##  **The Return of Rowaelin?**

The city flies by as they make their way outside of town, towards the private neighborhood where the after-party is happening. As she predicted, they had their choice of parties for everyone to meet at, especially with Aelin spearheading the search.

**Where the fuck are you at, Pop Star?** Lorcan’s text lights up the screen of her phone, illuminating the back of the car. Aelin scowls at the text, and Rowan notices, leaning into her space to read the message. Aelin resists curling into his warmth and familiar scent; her outfit doesn’t provide much protection from the chilly car interior.

“A better question would be: where are we going?” Rowan teases, but his eyes are curious, asking for an explanation. Aelin flushes when she realizes that she’s forgotten to tell him the band’s plans.

She gives him an apologetic smile. “Cassian got a house outside of the city. Knowing him, the whole thing is bound to be pure chaos, but he’ll have good whiskey.”

Rowan nods in agreement, pleased with the promise of more booze. He’s been rather indulgent this evening, taking advantage of having the other adults around to help him with Thea; Aelin’s happy to see him relaxing for a change.

Her phone buzzes again. It’s Lorcan. She must’ve taken longer to respond than he liked.

**Nobody cares if you’re fashionably late.**

**Or about what you look like.**

**Ace.**

**Aelin.**

**Galathynius.**

**What’s your middle name? I should know this.**

“Gods,” she sighs, exasperated by their not-so broody friend. If she’d known that getting close to Lorcan, and cracking through that grumpy shell of his, meant he’d turn into such a pain in the ass, Aelin would have kept him her enemy. “Why do we even like this asshole, again?”

“Lorcan just wants to cry to you about his crush.” Rowan huffs a laugh; he knows who she’s talking about without having to ask. Lorcan’s nagging tendencies are the band’s best-kept secret. He leans back into her side, peering at her messages over her shoulder again. Aelin snorts, angling the phone so Rowan can read along.

“Eleanor,” he says smugly. “After your aunt.”

Aelin feels warm and fuzzy at that. Though, she must have done something in another life to piss off a god or two because the next text from Lorcan is the last thing she’d ever want Rowan to read.

**Are you FINALLY getting laid?**

With a jolt, she locks the screen as quickly as possible, but Aelin knows it’s not fast enough to avoid Rowan seeing it. She bites down on her lip at the sharp intake of breath Rowan takes when he reads it, and her face burns with embarrassment, hidden beneath her makeup.

She’s going to fucking kill Lorcan.

**Why don’t you worry about your own love life?** Aelin types out, tapping the glass with a little more force than necessary. **By the way, how’s that going for you?**

**Someone’s pissy this evening.** Lorcan responds. **And fuck you.**

“I, uh.” Rowan coughs to clear his throat; he doesn’t look at her when he speaks, looking out the window instead. “If I’m crashing your plans, say the word, Ace. I can make myself scarce.”

“Nope. No plans.” The words come too quickly, and Aelin cringes internally at her lack of grace. Rowan thinks the text is about someone else, she realizes; Aelin can’t decide if she’s relieved or not. “I invited you out for the night, Buzzard. You’re stuck with me.”

He dips his chin, but Rowan’s smile returns. “If you say so.”

##  **Is Cassian Guerra Moving to Doranelle?**

The not-so-humble home is packed when they arrive. Aelin isn’t all that surprised; Cassian’s notorious within the entertainment world for his parties. Rowan swears under his breath as the car pulls through the drive, dropping the pair at the door before finding somewhere to park.

“What the fuck have you gotten me into, Aelin?” Rowan asks, eyes wide.

The home is modern, with giant windows made of crystal clear glass and privacy for miles. It’s clearly a home that’s been built with the famous and wealthy entertainer type in mind; Aelin wonders idly if the owner is willing to sell.

Her smile is wicked as Rowan helps her out of the car. People cheer her name in greeting, but she’s only got eyes for Rowan. “Don’t act so scared, Buzzard. You used to be the life of the party; maybe I can get the DJ to play us some Beyonce.”

“That was one time,” he hisses, jaw clenching in annoyance. Aelin laughs freely, squeezing his arm and leaning into his side. Rowan looks a little pleased despite himself, a smile twitching at his lips.

“It’s one of my fondest memories of you, Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin tells him, her voice grave. “No one thought you could even hit those moves, but you proved them all _wrong_.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Rowan growls. His smile suggests otherwise.

“Liar.” Aelin holds his attention for a little too long. Stepping back from him, she clears her throat before nodding towards the house. “C’mon. Let’s go find the guys.”

Rowan falls in with her quickly. The house is just as breathtaking inside as it is on the outside. The wall opposite the door is made of more windows, a breathtaking view of the city in the distance waiting for them if they could only make it across the room.

Aelin bites her lip to keep from grinning like a fool; Rowan takes her hand in his, guiding her through the crowd. People congratulate them as they pass, telling them how much they liked their shows or the duet, but they manage not to get trapped into any conversations.

Instead, Aelin and Rowan search the house, looking for their elusive friends. It’s funny how Lorcan harassed her the whole drive over, but now he’s gone radio silent. She is willing to bet that the appearance of a particular brunette spitfire is to blame.

“Gods,” Aelin exclaims. “Where the fuck are those assholes?”

“Knowing them, they’re wherever the alcohol is,” Rowan muses aloud. Aelin struggles not to laugh at the accuracy of the statement and his flat, matter of fact tone. “We just need to find a bar.”

“Ah! Here you are!” Aelin squeaks when Elide appears at her shoulder, scaring her out of her skin. The brunette’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, but Elide doesn’t comment. 

“Why are you the way that you are?” Aelin wheezes, trying to recover. She swears that her heart will stop dead one of these days.

Rowan chuckles, smoothing a hand down her back in comfort. Aelin knows that Elide’s sharp eyesight hasn’t missed the little gesture, and the guitarist's eyebrows shoot up into her hair, making Aelin feel inexplicably self-conscious. She doesn’t know how to deflect with Elide like she does with Lorcan, not without risking someone’s confidence.

“I don’t suppose you know where the band is?” Rowan asks Elide.

Elide quirks one brow; Aelin knows she’s about to be difficult for the sake of it. “Which band? Your band? Her band?” She nods at Aelin. “My band?” She points at herself. Then she aims two fingers in Aelin’s and Rowan’s direction. “Or _the_ band?”

“Yes,” Aelin tells the guitarist. Rowan makes a face. “I mean, technically, at least one of the people we’re looking for is in every band.” She waves her arms, ignoring Rowan’s eye roll. “So—Yes.”

Elide laughs at the answer, grinning; she jerks her head once in the direction of all the windows. Aelin notices for the first time the grand double doors, open and leading towards the backyard and the glowing blue pool. There’s an outside bar.

Rowan grins. “See? I told you.”

##  **Evalin Galathynius’s Star-Studded Affair.**

They’re welcomed by applause when Rowan and Aelin finally find their friends. The noise attracts a bit of attention, people interested in the lives of these old-pros. Aelin ducks her head to avoid making eye contact with those that she doesn’t want to talk to. She hasn’t had nearly enough to drink to be Aelin Galathynius, Life of the Party.

In fact, she hasn’t had anything. Aelin usually makes it a point not to drink before a performance; she’d hate to fuck up something because she over-indulged. Yet, as Vaughan plays bartender, Aelin tells him not to worry about her. He looks a little surprised but makes no comment on the matter.

Rowan sends her a supportive smile, helping to chase away any insecurities.

“Ace!” Fenrys shouts, plopping into the seat next to hers and leaning into her side. Aelin smiles at him; he’s clearly a bit ahead of everyone else this evening drink-wise. “If you go just a few shades darker, you can be my new twin! Then I can finally get rid of that idiot!”

He nods his head in Connall’s direction, smiling. Aelin makes a face, and Fenrys is quick to take a lock of her hair and hold it beside his own, pointing out how very close in color Aelin’s new hair is to his own. Connall glares at them from where he’s perched on a knee-high wall.

Aelin snorts. She’s full of sarcasm when she says, “I’ll get right on that. You’re right; that’s totally the only thing keeping people from believing we’re related.”

Fenrys’s nod is that of a happy and innocent drunk. He doesn’t even notice that the round of chuckles is of the teasing nature rather than encouragement. He smiles at Aelin, only for his eyes to lock on a figure in the distance. “Hey! Is that the chick from those princess movies?”

Before anyone can stop him, Fenrys wanders away into the crowd. Aelin shares a fond smile with Rowan, looking amongst her bandmates, before asking, “Should we stop him?”

Connall shrugs. “Nehemia looks like she can handle herself.”

“It’s not Nehemia that I’m worried about.”

Rowan seems to consider what she’s said the longest. With a sigh, he gets out of his chair and chases after the blonde flirt. Aelin smiles, watching the scene unfold as Fenrys introduces himself to Nehemia; Rowan’s got a hand on his shoulder a few seconds later, whispering something in their friend's ear.

Elide elbows Aelin to get her attention. The brunette is watching the group with open amusement, holding a beer in one hand and her phone in the other. The black mini dress she wears is drool-worthy, and Aelin resists glancing toward Lorcan. Poor guy can’t catch a break.

“I’m going for another,” Elide says, wiggling the bottle in her hands. “Want me to bring you some water or something?”

Aelin smiles. Very little passes without Elide’s notice. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No biggie,” Elide says, shrugging and heading off towards the massive poolside bar. Aelin doesn’t think anybody is surprised when Lorcan jumps up to follow after her.

“I’ll come, too,” he says lamely. One hand rests on his neck, a telltale sign of his discomfort.

“Suit yourself,” Elide tells him with indifference. The woman sweeps her long, intricately braided hair to one shoulder and turns to leave. Like a lost puppy, Aelin’s friend trots after her, clearly intent on trying to start a conversation.

“Man,” Vaughan hisses in sympathy for him. “What’d Lorcan do to her?”

Aelin sighs. “Don’t even get me started.”

“I was just saying _hello_ ,” Fenrys argues as Rowan guides him back to the group by the collar. He lands hard on his tailbone when Rowan gives him a shove, and Fenrys glares. “Gods, you’re no fun at all. No wonder—“

“Whatever you’re about to say,” Rowan warns him, “just make sure you remember I’m bigger than you.”

Fenrys falls silent, still just coherent enough to hear the threat in Rowan’s words. Aelin elbows the blonde twin, whispering conspiratorially, “I’ll introduce her to you some other time, but only because I think she’d enjoy your total lack of inhibitions.”

“If that’s the case,” Vaughan drawls, “just let him go make a fool of himself now.”

The two men start to bicker, Connall urging them on. Aelin shares a smile with Rowan. She feels like a teenager, praying that her crush will come to sit next to her so she can bat her eyelashes at them. It’s silly, but it’s also a really great feeling.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Poses for Selfie with the Moonbeam Twins.**

Inspiration has always hit at the worst of times for Aelin—in the dead of night, during a critical meeting, or at a party with all of her friends. Like now.

She pulls out her phone, fiddling with the lyrics she’s been playing with. There isn’t much to work with just yet, but Aelin knows she’ll be able to shape it into something real in no time. She starts typing out her ideas as quickly as she can, afraid to forget the words coming to her mind.

“Ah, there she goes again,” Fenrys teases, grinning at Aelin when she looks up in surprise. He seems to have settled his argument with Vaughan. “Writing another platinum record.”

“Shut up,” Aelin snaps at him, feeling self-conscious. She gestures towards Vaughan with her phone. “No one ever gives him a hard time when he’s writing.”

Vaughan makes an offended noise, but everyone else laughs. The Cadre’s bassist is notorious for tuning out from gatherings, writing notes into his phone, or devouring a new novel.

Aelin raises a challenging brow towards Fenrys. “Besides, shouldn’t you be _excited_ that I’m writing?”

Fenrys’s smile is sinister. “Now, now, Aelin,” he coos, waggling one unsteady finger in her direction. Aelin already regrets whatever is about to come out of his drunken mouth. “I thought we were keeping our little _tete-a-tete_ a secret?”

Connall groans in that way only a sibling can. “We have got to cut you off from those period films, bro. You have a problem.”

“ _You’re_ a problem,” Fenrys blurts around a hiccup. He smirks lazily at her, waiting for Aelin to explain herself to the curious looks aimed in their direction.

Aelin shares an exasperated smile with Vaughan before locking eyes with Rowan, a frown on his face. There’s no one close enough to them to overhear, so she figures it’s safe enough. Her smile still shakes.

“Um, I’m not renewing my contract with Adarlan,” she tells them. Rowan looks surprised by the news, and a flash of guilt hits her for not confiding in him sooner. “I’m in negotiations with someone new.”

“Who?” Vaughan asks before Rowan can.

Aelin looks at Fenrys and Connall, but the brothers play dumb. However, Fenrys vibrates with excitement, which Aelin suspects might be ruining the illusion of innocence. She clears her throat, suddenly feeling nervous. Aelin’s not sure why; maybe it’s because this is the first time she’s said it out loud.

“With—“ Aelin falters as she realizes that she doesn’t know if the twins and Dorian have settled on a name yet. She’s borne witness to more than a few heated debates over what to name their label.

“Moonbeam Studios got axed,” Fenrys laments, frowning deeply.

Connall bobs his head. “Dorian felt like it excluded him.”

“So, welcome to Damaris Labels,” Fenrys announces, waving his hands in the air. The action nearly sends him tumbling out of his chair. Aelin has a feeling that he was not in the majority for this decision.

“You’re signing with a label that doesn’t have a name yet?” Rowan asks, raising a brow.

“They just told us the name,” Aelin counters, but she flushes at the admonishment. She wonders if that’s actually what bothers Rowan about the arrangement or if it has something to do with the missing third partner. Aelin knows Dorian isn’t Rowan’s favorite person.

“Anything is better than where I’m at,” Aelin says somberly. Rowan’s face falls at that. “Besides, Dorian is either the worst negotiator I’ve ever worked with or my new best friend. He’s giving me just about everything I’ve asked for.”

Rowan purses his lips, but he doesn’t argue the point further. Aelin makes a note to ask him about it later. She wishes Lorcan we’re here, but he and Elide never returned with their drinks.

“I heard my name,” Dorian claims the armrest to her chair and throws a lazy arm over Aelin’s shoulders. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. “Are you telling everyone how much you miss me?”

Aelin glares at him. “How can anyone miss you when you’re always around?”

Dorian’s smile is blinding. “You love it.”

Vaughan and Rowan launch into their interrogation almost immediately, quizzing both Dorian and the brothers about their business plans. Aelin wonders how much of it is a professional courtesy and how much of it has to do with Aelin. The Cadre always looks out for its own.

Aelin listens along, taking mental notes, and jotting a few things down. She recognizes the learning opportunity for what it is. Aelin doesn’t know much about running a company, but one never knows when this kind of knowledge could become useful. Hell, maybe it could help her in her negotiations.

Aelin is pretty excited about what the future holds.

##  **Cassian Guerra Streams After Party—Dances With Aelin Galathynius.**

Aelin knows when Cassian makes an appearance that there’s no getting out of dancing. The pair spent way too much time at Rita’s in Velaris, dancing until dawn and killing their livers with tequila. It’s kind of their thing, and Aelin soon realizes that being in Doranelle and staying sober won’t change that.

Cassian holds her hostage for a few songs before she finds herself face to face with Rhysand Knight of all people on the floor. They laugh together, snapping a few pictures to share later on and dancing with their friends. Rhys calls it cannon fodder, as he snaps another photo with his head atop hers.

By the time Aelin returns to her group, Dorian has vanished. She finds him quickly; he’s migrated to another circle not too far away. He meets her eye and sends her a naughty wink.

“What are you reading?” Aelin asks Vaughan, leaning on his shoulder and earning a smile from him. The twins are close by, so far in their cups that everything and nothing is funny at the same time. 

Vaughan doesn’t deny her accusation, nodding towards Fenrys and Connall. “I’ve got those two tonight,” he explains. “I need something to do while they get high.”

Aelin laughs softly; she'd be lying if she said she didn’t want to join them, but a promise is a promise, even to herself. Her eyes scan the outside, looking for Rowan, but she doesn’t see him anywhere.

Vaughan gives her a knowing look. “A spectacularly blonde woman stole him away.” He makes a face. ”I’ve never seen someone so pale in my life.”

“Remelle,” Connall supplies.

Fenrys cringes before adding, “I’m scared of her.”

Aelin isn’t able to fight off the disappointment that threatens her. She was kind of hoping to talk him into dancing with her, but that option is off the table now.

Remelle. Why would Rowan leave with her of all people?

Vaughan takes pity on her. He points back towards the house. “They went that way.”

Aelin doesn’t bother to hide her gratitude from him. She ruffles the smirking author’s hair before heading back towards the indoors. The crowd is the thickest inside, where the music is loud, making it difficult for Aelin to spot anyone in particular, much less Rowan. She thinks she’s caught sight of his silver-blonde hair when someone grabs her elbow.

Dorian looks as if he’s just seen a ghost. Aelin’s brain immediately sends her heart into panic mode, and she runs through the list of possible explanations for Dorian’s ashen, shell-shocked expression. Something clearly terrible has happened. She’s just about to ask what, when he points.

“That is the most… terrifying woman I’ve ever seen,” Dorian tells her hoarsely.

Confused, Aelin follows the direction of his finger. Her gaze lands on Manon of all people; Aelin didn’t even know that her stylist had come to the party. But there she was, standing with her cousin and some other people that Aelin can’t really place.

Despite his claims, Dorian watches Manon with awe. He turns his sapphire blue eyes on Aelin, pleading, “I need you to introduce me to her. _Now_.”

Laughter bubbles out of Aelin’s throat before she can stop herself, making Dorian scowl at her. He looks very insulted that Aelin would find such a grave matter so funny. Aelin holds out a hand in a gesture of apology as she tries to catch her breath.

“Her name is Manon, and if you need my help to introduce yourself, it’ll never work out,” she gasps, tears gathering in her eyes. Dorian tilts his head, assessing the situation. Aelin swats him. “Leave her alone, Dor. She’ll tear you to pieces, and you can’t die yet. I’ve nearly robbed you blind in this record deal.”

“I’m going to let her do whatever she wants to me,” he promises, ignoring her jab about the deal. Aelin makes a disgusted face, but Dorian has already left her side, headed for the woman that’s caught his eye. The blonde sends a silent prayer out for him. There’s no telling what Manon will put that man through.

That’s a problem for later, Aelin thinks, as she catches sight of Rowan once more.

##  **Rhysand Knight Dating Aelin Galathynius?**

When Aelin finds Rowan, she has half a mind to turn around and run for the hills. Remelle Snowe is perched on the armrest of the chair he sits in, smiling sweetly and holding court with her admirers; Aelin can’t believe the woman even has any. Remelle is a total bitch.

She’s also the first to notice Aelin’s arrival. “Oh! Hello there.”

Her voice is like acid, which seems odd when considering that she’s a singer. But, it’s the tension in Rowan’s shoulders, visible even from behind, that drives Aelin forward. She takes a deep breath and plasters on her entertainer’s smile before closing the distance between them.

The decision has her brain setting off every alarm in its arsenal, and her heart panics at all the noise. But there’s no way Aelin can just abandon Rowan. It’s obvious he’d rather be somewhere else.

Something in the snide look in Remelle’s crystal blue eyes makes Aelin inexplicably angry, pushing her to lay a possessive hand on Rowan’s shoulder from behind him. He tenses under the touch, not knowing who it is, and Aelin wonders if it wouldn’t be the first unwanted contact he’s endured this evening.

“Ro,” Aelin says, ignoring Remelle and the looks of the others. She musters every ounce of sweetness that she can, dying on the inside with the desire to let out the Bitch Queen. Aelin Galathynius of The Cadre days would tear Remelle into pieces for shits and giggles—and then she’d murder her for upsetting Rowan.

At the sound of her voice, Rowan relaxes into her touch, and Aelin smiles. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You got a second?”

He meets her gaze over his shoulder, _Thank you._

“We were kind of in the middle of something,” Remelle tells Aelin shortly. It rankles her.

Rowan steps in before Aelin can say anything, though. He spares Remelle and the others an apologetic smile, but Aelin is seemingly the only one there that can see the lie hidden within it. “It was nice talking to you guys. See you around.”

Remelle huffs out a breath and meets Aelin’s eye before looking her up and down in such a way that has Aelin’s spine straightening. Rowan’s fingers wrap around her elbow, but Aelin doesn’t break eye contact with the other singer. She refuses to back down.

So, Aelin has to admit it’s a little disappointing when Remelle is the one to surrender. She wonders if Rowan had anything to do with it, as Remelle says, “See you, Friday.”

He nods tightly, tugging at Aelin’s arm. _Don’t pick a fight._

_She started it._ Aelin sniffs, allowing him to lead her away.

When they’re out of earshot, Aelin lets out a harsh breath. She pauses, and Rowan senses right away what she’s considering. Gods, Aelin had forgotten how irritating that was. He grasps her shoulders in his hands, looking her dead in the eye. Aelin glowers at him.

“You’re not allowed to piss her off, Ace,” Rowan insists.

Yet, he smiles when she scoffs, crossing her arms in disagreement. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because,” Rowan says, trying not to laugh. He tosses an arm around her shoulders and leads her further away from the group. It’s like he’s afraid that Aelin is going to double back and give Remelle a piece of her mind. “Currently, she pays my mortgage for me.”

“You have a _mortgage_?” Aelin wrinkles her nose.

Her outrage causes Rowan to break, and he finally laughs, tossing his head back and smiling at the skylight. Aelin soon forgets all about her annoyance with Remelle at the sight of his happiness.

Fuck, she’s so screwed.

##  **Remelle Snowe Shares Poses Poolside.**

“You do know that we’re at a party right now, right?”

Aelin ignores Rowan’s jab as she weaves through the party, headed for the general direction of where she last saw stairs. He laughs when she snatches a bottle of whiskey from the bar closest to the stairs, following close to her as she jogs up the flight of steps. It’s not an easy feat in the heels she wears.

“All the cool people sneak away from the party, Rowan.” Aelin shrugs, pretending that her pulse doesn’t race at the feeling of Rowan’s palm pressed into her back. He’s just making sure she doesn’t bust her ass, is what she tells herself. They used to do this all the time—the casual touching.

And yet, Aelin thinks. And yet.

“Is that so?” Rowan asks in a way that tells her he doesn’t believe it for a second. Aelin nods in response, searching the upstairs for what she’s looking for. It doesn't take Rowan long to cave in to his curiosity, asking, “Aelin Galathynius, what are you up to?”

Aelin arches a brow at him. _Excuse me?_

_You heard me—_ a smile.

“Rumor has it, Cassian’s guitar is stored up here in the master bedroom.” Aelin eyes the hallway skeptically, noting all the doors. Just how big is this place? “Wherever the fuck that is.”

Rowan snorts. “You really do never stop, do you? I bet you write songs in your sleep.”

“Fuck, you should see some of the notes that I wake up to in the morning.” Aelin doesn’t bother disagreeing. She takes a gamble, opening the door to her right; it’s a bathroom, and mercifully, it’s empty. People always get a little wild during a party. She heads for the next door.

An empty closet. Aelin sighs. “Sometimes, it’s just plain gibberish—like I’m speaking some weird fucking language in my sleep. But other times, it’s my next single.”

Aelin waits for him to say something smart, but Rowan remains silent. Aelin looks over her shoulder at him, only to find Rowan regarding her with a soft smile. The expression makes her blush furiously, and Aelin looks away quickly, ducking her head and darting towards the next door.

She collides with someone. Elide.

“Oh! Aelin!” The brunette looks flustered, which is odd considering that Aelin is the one who never looks where she’s going, charging headfirst into trouble. “H-hey.”

“Hey, Ellie,” Aelin greets, raising a brow at her odd behavior.

“I was just—” It could be Aelin’s imagination, but she thinks that her lead guitarist might be blushing. Elide ducks her head to hide her face, confirming Aelin’s suspicions. “—going to the bathroom. Yeah. Bye!”

Elide slips past them without further explanation, walking right past the bathroom that Aelin just identified and heading down the stairs. Aelin watches her go with no small amount of interest, but Rowan just shrugs when she looks his way. He’s never been as nosey as Aelin.

They continue their search for the guitar. Rowan teases her gently as they look, and Aelin falls right into his trap, bickering with him and letting him get her riled up. She knows he just likes to make her angry, but she falls for it every time.

“Well, I’m telling you, _Buzzard_ , that you’re wrong!”

Rounding a corner, they bump into Lorcan. Everyone blinks at one another. Then Lorcan smiles like the cat who’s finally caught the canary, but instead of explaining himself, he looks between his two friends, wiggles his eyebrows, and then walks away.

Aelin and Rowan are both silent for a long while.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Aelin asks, sharing a look with Rowan.

He wrinkles his nose. “I try not to think about Lorcan doing anything.”

Aelin laughs at his open disgust. She sends him a look as she opens the next door. “They totally did it.”

“ _It_?” Rowan echoes, but he’s smiling. “What are you? Twelve?”

The sight of a beat-up guitar case makes Aelin gasp. She ignores his jab and claims the instrument, but she flashes him a bright smile.

“Hooray!” She cheers, mocking Thea. They’re not sure where the little girl learned the phrase, but it’s one of her most favorites. _Hooray_ for breakfast. _Hooray_ for nap time. _Hooray_ for music. Just _hooray._

##  **Aelin Galathynius Has Another Platinum Hit On Her Hands.**

It doesn’t take them very long to find somewhere quiet to write. The pair sequester themselves away into a spare, empty bedroom, and Aelin loses custody of the guitar almost immediately. She frowns at the theft, but Rowan only laughs, virtually immune to her pout.

Aelin loses track of time as they sit there on the floor together, sharing the whiskey bottle and passing her phone back and forth between them. It’s near impossible for them to get a good recording with the music booming beneath their feet. Aelin knows they could just leave the party, but where’s the fun in that?

Before she knows it, her phone is begging for a charger, and they’ve just written a new song.

“Fuck,” Aelin swears as she checks the time. “I think it’s time to go home.”

Rowan raises a brow at her, then he sees the time. “Shit,” he breathes, wiping at his face as he realizes his exhaustion. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed up this late. Or is it early?”

Aelin smiles at him, offering him a hand to help him off the floor. Rowan finished off the whiskey bottle not too long ago, and while Aelin may have indulged in a sip or two, she’s barely gotten a buzz from the drink. Most of it was consumed by Rowan.

His smile steals the breath from Aelin’s lungs as he clasps her hand in his and rises from the carpet, but Rowan’s heavier than Aelin anticipated. They stagger as she struggles to carry his weight, and Aelin just barely manages to right them before they topple to the ground.

Rowan _giggles._ The tiniest, purest of sounds that always gives away that he’s reached his peak level of intoxication. Aelin grins at him, brushing his hair out of his face.

“You’re super drunk, huh?” she says; although, it isn’t really a question.

“And you’re super pretty,” Rowan tells her, tucking her hair behind her ear. His brow pinches together in thought, the face of a man whose words have escaped him without permission. “S-Sorry.”

She smiles, squeezing his arm with one hand. “If a girl ever gets mad at you for telling them they’re pretty, they are fucking lying.”

“Are you…” Rowan’s face remains a frown. “Mad?”

“Have you met me?” Aelin aims for reassurance, but her partner in crime is too far gone to notice the subtlety. She taps his nose, making his eyes go cross. “Thank you for telling me I’m pretty.”

Her words earn a smile. Aelin leaves the guitar in the spare room closet, feeling that it’s safer there than anywhere else. Her last two texts are to Cassian, for the location of his guitar, and to Brullo, saying they’re ready to go home.

The party is still in full swing as they come downstairs. Aelin hunts down Vaughan and the twins, checking in on them, but Lorcan and Elide are nowhere to be found. Aelin grins at the memory of them earlier this evening; she’s never seen Lorcan in a relationship before. Good for them, she thinks. It’ll certainly be interesting.

Rowan shadows her, trying to pretend he isn’t as drunk as he is.

This time, Aelin holds onto Rowan’s hand as they leave the house. She finds Brullo waiting for them at the door, and they take their leave. It’s nothing like the mad dash to the car at the club; Cassian’s rental is secluded and private. They’re not worried about anyone photographing them, about the theories that would be plastered on every gossip column tomorrow.

“Do you want us to take you home?” Aelin asks Rowan as they get into the car. Her heart leaps as Rowan’s head drops to her shoulder, and he groans.

“Sleep,” is all he says.

Aelin turns toward Brullo, trying not to look flustered as she tells them where to go. “Let’s go to the apartment,” she decides. “It’s closer, and we all know the photographers are waiting for me at the townhouse by now.”

_Hoping to catch a photo of Party Aelin_ , she doesn’t say. It goes without saying.

There’s also a private garage, Aelin thinks. It’s not that she wants to hide Rowan, but rather, Aelin is pretty sure he’d prefer his drunken return to her apartment to not be all over the internet tomorrow. Before people probably wouldn’t have paid all that much attention to a late-night, drunk Rowan, but with Aelin at his side...

The privacy was preferable.

Aelin must doze off; they pull into the garage sooner than expected. She sends Ress a sleepy smile of thanks as the man gets the door for her; he jumps in quickly to assist Aelin with the uncoordinated Rowan. He’s fading rather fast, unused to staying out so late, or drinking so much whiskey in one go.

On her floor, Aelin assumes custody of Rowan. She smiles as he curls into her side, leaning heavily on her for support. It’s been a very long time since Aelin last saw him so far gone, but she’s happy to know that he enjoyed himself. Aelin has a feeling that between taking care of Thea and working, Rowan doesn’t take a lot of time for himself these days.

“This way, Buzzard,” Aelin grunts, practically dragging him towards her guest room. Rowan tries to comply, tries to carry his own weight, but his feet are unsteady from the whiskey. He trips over the living room rug, breaking into a fit of giggles as Aelin catches him.

Aelin wants to be irritated with him, but it’s hard to do so as Rowan laughs like that, pressing his face into her shoulder and snickering like a child. He’s too fucking cute right now to be mad at. Then again, there’s also the feeling of his nose brushing her skin as he laughs, making Aelin’s heart race in her chest, but it doesn’t seem like the time or place to spiral down that path.

“I’m so drunk,” Rowan says, at last, catching his breath.

“I’m inclined to agree with you on that one,” Aelin tells him, swinging the door to the guest room open and turning on the lights. Rowan leans against the doorframe for support. Both of their faces fall at the sight of the empty room. Tarps lay across the floor, and swatches of paint on the wall.

Shit, Aelin totally forgot about that. “Fuck.”

“There’s no bed,” Rowan says sadly. Aelin snorts.

“You are a very observant drunk,” she says to him. Her companion nods in agreement with a somber face. The expression on his face makes Aelin smile; despite being very intoxicated, Rowan’s serious face echoes that of his daughter’s earlier this evening. “Come on, loser.”

“You’re a loser,” he tells her.

Rowan giggles at his own joke as he follows Aelin towards her room, using the walls to support himself. She prays that the people painting her apartment haven’t already started in her room, too. Otherwise, she and Rowan are going to be sharing the couch together.

The light turns on, and Aelin sighs in relief. The room is exactly as she left it last.

Rowan flops onto the bed unceremoniously, his form bouncing up and down as the mattress settles beneath him. Aelin laughs at the sight of him, laying atop her comforter and burying his face into a pillow. She leaves him to get comfortable, heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Her face will never forgive her if she falls asleep in all this makeup.

##  **Fenrys Moonbeam Shares An Exclusive Look at Guerra’s After Party.**

The giant bed feels very, very small when it comes time for Aelin to crawl into the bed beside Rowan. Aelin is aware of Rowan’s every breath as he dozes beside her. This isn’t weird, she tells herself. Rowan and Aelin used to share a bed all of the time. Hell, they shared a bed in the mountains, too.

The memory of Rowan calling her pretty and then apologizing for it replays in her mind, and Aelin recalls how she bolted from Rowan’s bedroom in the mountains. Bad example, then.

Aelin is surprised when her bedmate flops over onto his back, puffing out a breath of annoyance. She bites her lip to keep from laughing at the grumpy man lying beside her, and Aelin glances his way in the dark. She can barely make out his face in the dim lighting, the city lights leaking through the curtains. He’s frowning again.

“I’m proud of you, Aelin,” Rowan mumbles before she can ask him what’s wrong.

She holds her breath, waiting to see if he explains himself. When he doesn't, the question bursts from her lungs. “Proud of me for what?”

Rowan hums to himself, turning onto his side. They’re face to face like this; Aelin’s heart thumps wildly in her chest, filling the space between the two of him. It’s a wonder that Rowan can’t hear it.

“I’ve noticed, you know,” he tells her, watching her with soft, sleepy eyes. “You turned down every drink anyone offered you. The only reason you had any of the whiskey was that…” Rowan’s forehead wrinkles as he tries to remember through the haze of alcohol. “I didn’t make you feel bad, did I?”

“What? No,” she says quickly. “I drank it because I wanted to, and I didn’t because—” She shrugs, not sure how to explain it. “—Because I didn’t want to. The whole spiked-drink thing sort of turned me off of letting loose in public, but you’re… you.”

Rowan nods as if he understands. “I’ve noticed the change in you,” he says softly. “It’s not a bad thing,” he adds quickly, somehow sensing her spike of fear in the dark. His words slur a little; it’s definitely time for bed. “It’s just—I’m proud of you.”

Tears sting her eyes because of his words. Aelin swallows them back, croaking, “Thanks.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he mumbles, snuggling deeper into the bed. Aelin doesn’t know how Rowan always knows what she needs to hear, but she’s happy he does. Sleep comes easy that night.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Photo of Sunrise:** _ **One Hell of A Night.**_


	43. Chapter 43

##  **The Countdown to** _ **Dear Society**_ **Begins!**

Aelin arrives at Rowan’s doorstep armed with an oversized stuffed pony and a crate of Rowan’s favorite brand of wine. It may be Thea’s Big Day, but that doesn’t mean that the adults can’t celebrate a little, too. She swallows back her nerves and knocks once. Twice.

A bright-eyed Rowan answers the door a moment later. Aelin’s hit with a rush of emotions at his smiling happy face. There’s a cone-shaped birthday hat atop his head and a feather boa wrapped around his shoulders; Aelin recognizes it from another video Rowan sent of Thea dancing.

“Hot pink is your color, Rowan Whitethorn,” she teases, wishing she could tug at the boa for emphasis, but her hands are a little full. She’s feeling warm with happiness, and Aelin has to bite her lip to fight back the laughter, eyes sweeping across his disgruntled face.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Rowan growls, procuring a hat from nowhere. “You’re getting one, too.”

Instead of relieving Aelin of her burden, the man snaps a birthday hat to her head. The elastic string digs into the skin of her chin, and she frowns in disapproval at him. Now it’s Rowan’s time to grin, a big toothy smile that makes Aelin’s heart forget how to work right.

It’s easy for Aelin’s brain to get lost in those sparkling green eyes, thinking of the morning following her mom’s charity event. They’d slept well past noon, curled in each other’s arms. Rowan was the first to leave the room, and Aelin quickly sought him out, cold without his body heat.

The day that followed was full of coffee and laziness and companionship. It’s the kind of day that Aelin could get very, very used it; the type of day that Aelin wouldn’t mind experiencing every day.

“Aelin! Aelin!” Thea’s little cheers announce her arrival. The newly minted three-year-old barrels past her father’s legs to crash into Aelin in her excitement; she nearly takes Aelin out, and it’s only Rowan’s hands clasping her shoulders that keeps the woman upright.

Aelin doesn’t mind, though; in fact, she thinks she could burst into tears at any given second, overwhelmed by Thea’s greeting. She doesn’t believe that she’s ever felt more welcome in her life.

Thea tells her happily. “It’s my birthday!”

Rowan is smiling as he takes the wine from her, and Aelin kneels to the carpet to get on eye level with the birthday girl. Thea grins at her, no shyness insight. Aelin grins. “Now that can’t be right! I thought that it was _my birthday_!”

“Nuh, uh.” The little girl wrinkles her nose at Aelin, then she catches sight of the stuffed animal in Aelin’s arms. Her big green eyes stare at the horse with wonder.

“PONY!” Thea screams. Aelin laughs, quickly handing over the present to the girl in hopes that it will abate the screaming. Thea takes off with the gift, disappearing into the house to show off her gift. Aelin is still laughing as she accepts Rowan’s outstretched hand, tugging her back onto her feet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” the father tells Aelin softly, his eyes shining with appreciation all the same. Aelin rolls her eyes at him, pinching at his ribs lightly; of course, Rowan would feel guilty about other people buying his daughter’s birthday presents. As if the people in Thea’s life weren’t always showering her with gifts, much less on her birthday.

Aelin shrugs one shoulder, still grinning. “She actually asked me for a live one, but we compromised because I didn’t think you’d be down for a pet horse in the apartment.”

Rowan cracks another grin. He ducks his head, and Aelin considers melting on the spot. He’s just so adorable. Rowan says, “Yeah, thanks for that.”

He gestures as an invitation for Aelin to enter the apartment, and she tries not to feel funny about stepping into Rowan’s place. Oddly, this is the first time Aelin’s ever been to Rowan and Thea’s home, but not all that surprising. Logistically, it’s easier for them to come to her than to transport a wily dog around the city. It also saves Aelin from having to fuss with a security detail.

Aelin misses the days of anonymity sometimes. She loves her fans, and she loves what she does. However, she wishes sometimes that she could just go over to a friend’s place without an escort.

“It’s beautiful,” Aelin tells Rowan, who beams at her praise. She notes the touches of Rowan in the decoration, his preference for the color green and straightforward yet comfortable things, and then there’s Thea, found in the scribbles pinned to the walls and the pink toys everywhere. Aelin loves it.

“Thanks,” he says.

Aelin notices the picture on the entryway table and smiles. It’s of The Cadre at some underground show that she can hardly remember this many years later. Aelin picks up the photo, admiring their round, young faces. Where did all the time go?

“That’s one of my favorites,” Rowan tells her softly, looking a little shy. Aelin just wants to kiss him and be done with it already.

“Ace! Hurry up, and get your skinny ass in here!” Lorcan Salvaterre ruins the moment.

Aelin and Rowan look away from each other quickly as if they’ve both just been caught doing something bad. Aelin giggles nervously, and Rowan glowers, stomping towards the living room. She follows after Rowan, listening as he admonishes the other man for cursing in front of Thea.

She barks a laugh at the sight of Elide poking Lorcan in the arm, her frown a better scold than anything Rowan could say to Lorcan. Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever seen the drummer fall into line so quickly. Of course, it would be Elide Lochan, who whipped Lorcan Salvaterre into submission.

Aelin grins at them. “Thank you for calling me skinny. Otherwise, we’d have a problem on our hands.”

Rowan scoffs at them, rolling his eyes. Aelin hears him mutter something under his breath, and she suspects that it’s some of those same foul words they’re not supposed to say in front of Thea. Lorcan smiles proudly at Aelin, an arm slung around Elide’s shoulders; he looks utterly proud of himself. The man positively dwarfs Elide, but they look absolutely silly with a new love. Aelin is stupid happy for them.

“So, you’re the infamous Aelin,” a voice says from another corner of the room.

Rowan and Aelin talked over what today would look like, what kind of people would be in attendance for Thea’s birthday party. Mostly, they were people from Thea’s daycare or people from Rowan’s work. Aelin came prepared for a few gaping people, but today was about Thea and not her. She could suck it up.

“Whatever you’ve heard about me, it’s probably true,” Aelin quips without identifying the speaker. When she does, the singer regrets her snark almost immediately.

Two older adults watch her carefully. Thea sits between them, showing off the pony that Aelin bought her for her birthday. Aelin notes the silver shooting through the dark head of hair belonging to the gentleman and the full curls on the woman’s head that look just like Thea’s. Rowan’s daughter shares her nose.

“My, that’s a bold statement,” Lyria’s mother tells Aelin, her voice a little sharp. Aelin finds herself contemplating the odds that this woman or her husband have ever heard something _good_ about Aelin; the odds don’t stack in her favor.

Young Aelin would snapback, get the first hit in before this woman can say something shady. Instead, she looks to Rowan for support, instinctively seeking his help. She’s surprised to find his eyes as cold as emeralds, staring in the woman’s direction, and Aelin notices the muscle flickering in his jaw as he grinds his teeth together.

“Lil’,” he says warningly. The room goes quiet.

Vaughan exits the kitchen then, loudly popping the cork off of one of the wine bottles Aelin brought. There’s something charming about the combination of the plaid button-up he’s wearing and the thick glasses perched on the end of his nose, the princess tiara nestled in his dark locks.

Innocently, he peers up over the rims of his glasses, remaining unfazed by the many eyes on him. This man has played for a stadium of eighty thousand before; Lyria’s parents don’t scare him. Vaughan looks to Aelin. “You in or what, Galathynius?”

“Fu— _Yes_.” Aelin grins at him, thankful for her infallible friend. She uses the wine as an excuse to dip out of the living room, but she catches Rowan’s fingers as she passes, giving them a quick, hard squeeze. His eyes don’t leave his former mother-in-law.

##  **_Wine Party!_** **Aelin Galathynius Poses for Pic With Bandmate Vaughan Phillips.**

For a while, children rampage through the apartment, and the adults get too busy managing the chaos to peck at one another. Aelin hides shamelessly with Vaughan in the kitchen, who prefers the quiet and is armed with his Kindle; together, they watch the birthday party unfold, trailing lazily after the gathering when they all head up to the rooftop to grill.

Lorcan spends most of the party making heart-eyes at Elide and being otherwise useless, but Fenrys and Connall quickly become the entertainment, forever the class clowns. Vaughan and Aelin supply the adults with wine, and Rowan and the other parents eagerly accept the drinks.

Thea’s grandparents don’t acknowledge Aelin again, but she suspects that may have had something to do with whatever harsh words Rowan and _Lilly_ shared on the patio a while ago. It’s none of her business—even if it kind of is.

“Okay!” Fenrys encourages. “We totally got this, squirt. Try again!”

Thea’s giggles drag Aelin’s gaze towards the trio sitting at one of the tables. The children are all eating their food, except for the birthday girl. Instead, she’s tossing fries at the twins’ faces and laughing. Fenrys and Connall lean close to one another, a pair of baby birds vying for the first bite of food.

The little girl has exactly the level of aim one would expect of a three-year-old. Her next shot misses the men entirely, but the one after that only goes a little too far left. Connall dives to the side. The trio cheers, arms in the air as they celebrate their victory.

Aelin chuckles, catching Rowan’s attention. He’s in charge of the grill, and Aelin thinks it should be illegal for anyone to look so good in a frilly purple apron, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Rumor has it, Thea picked out the apron, and apparently, Aelin is into guys who wear embarrassing aprons for their daughters.

He raises a brow in a silent question. _What’s so funny?_

_That,_ she tells him, jerking her head in the direction of the troublemakers. He probably thought she was giggling at his apron.

Rowan looks towards the brothers and Thea in time to witness Fenrys take a fry to the face and barks a laugh. Aelin’s smile is so big it hurts her face, but she blames it on the wine. She buys outstanding wine, and Vaughan is a dangerous bartender.

“How do you like it?” Rowan asks her, eyes on the grill. They’re off to the side, away from most of the party, but Aelin doesn’t mind. She kind of likes having Rowan all to herself.

“A little rough with some praise mixed in,” she says with a stone-cold expression, swirling her wine indifferently. Rowan chokes on his beer, his face flushing red from the lack of oxygen, and Aelin howls with laughter, nearly spilling her wine in the process.

Lorcan arrives then, clapping Rowan roughly on the back with no real intent of helping his friend. Lorcan didn’t hear Aelin’s words and doesn't know why Rowan is dying, and Aelin is happy about that. She’d never live down the teasing. Instead, Lor scolds the silver-haired man. 

“You’re not supposed to breathe in the beer, man.” Another rough pat. “You’re as bad as Connall. It’s not going anywhere.”

Rowan wheezes in response, trying to recover, and Lorcan smirks, snatching the spatula from Rowan and preparing the food while their friend suffocates. Aelin is still cackling as she comes to Rowan’s side, patting his back a little more gently than Lorcan. It dies when Rowan looks at her, molten heat simmering in his eyes. Her mouth goes dry, and her brain forgets how to speak.

“I meant your burger, Ae,” he says, voice low in a way that makes her shiver. Rowan’s face is still a little red as he smiles, noticing her reaction. “But noted.”

Aelin flushes all the way to the tips of her ears, and her toes curl in her shoes. She swallows, trying to wet her suddenly dry mouth, but before she can manage to say something witty, Lysandra and Aedion call Rowan’s name, beckoning him over. He spares a glance to her lips before turning away and joining the fray. Aelin thinks she might faint.

“That stupid apron really does it for you, huh?” Lorcan says without looking up from the food. Aelin can feel his smug smile without even having to look at him. Gods, she hates him.

Feeling a little unsteady, she sinks into her chair, reclaiming her glass of wine and taking a deep swallow. Aelin threatens, “I will shove your face into that grill and feel zero remorse for my actions.”

##  **The Moonbeam Twins Share Photo of Rowan Whitethorn’s Embarrassing Apron.**

Soon, the presents get opened, and it’s time to serve the cake. Elide blows everyone’s minds by presenting the kids with a challenge: whoever cleans up the fastest gets cake. Aelin can’t decide if the guitarist is evil or not, playing with the small children’s hearts like that. It’s a birthday party, and the oldest kid is maybe five. Everyone is getting cake.

When Rowan appears at her side, bearing a plate of cake, Aelin isn’t all that surprised. He’s ditched the birthday hat by this point, but Thea forced him to put the boa back on. Aelin traded Vaughan for his princess tiara a little while ago, but the bassist drove a hard bargain, costing Aelin her fairy wand. 

Maybe Dorian needed to hire him as a negotiator.

“Oh!” Aelin exclaims when Rowan places the cake in front of her. “No, thanks,” she tells him gently, smiling reassuringly. “I’ve already had my weight in wine; I should skip the cake.”

Rowan frowns, nudging the plate her way and taking the seat beside her. “All the more reason to eat it then. It’ll help soak up some of the alcohol in your stomach.”

Aelin thinks about the burger she’s already eaten, and the candy she stole from Thea. What she had for breakfast. The coffee on the ride over. Rowan must see the thoughts on Aelin’s face as she calculates everything she’s eaten today, and he turns a serious expression her way, surprising her.

“I have to get into shape for the tour,” she tells him, knowing the excuse is weak at best. Aelin’s never used anything, especially not a tour, as an excuse to miss out on cake. Still, she feels a need to defend her decision even if she has a while until she ships out for the tour.

Rowan says as much. “You wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” she deflects, hoping he’ll drop the topic given their current settings.

Aelin isn’t so lucky, though. Rowan scoffs slightly, nodding at the cake. “About why you’re turning down cake and pretending it’s just for the sake of a diet?”

She flushes, ducking her head to avoid having to look into Rowan’s sharp green eyes. He says her name softly, running a hand down her back in comfort. The only thing keeping Aelin from curling into him and breathing in his support are the many eyes not-so-secretly watching them.

“You’re beautiful,” Rowan tells her, soft enough that no one else will overhear. The praise makes her feel warm and fuzzy, and the earnestness in his voice makes words fail her. She blinks at him, speechless. He continues, “No matter what, you are—but we all want you to be healthy, too. I want you to be healthy.”

“He says as he tries to force me to eat cake,” Aelin deadpans. He chuckles at that, sliding the cake away from her and accepting the refusal. It annoys her that she’s disappointed to watch it go. She groans, admitting, “There’s a lot of pressure, you know. In the business. To look a certain way.”

“I know,” Rowan concedes. “But when have you ever cared about what other people think?”

Aelin raises a brow. “Have you _met_ me?” she asks. “I always care about what everyone thinks of me. _Hello_! It’s, like, my job to please people, Rowan.”

Rowan nods. “Yes, but since when have you let that get in the way of _cake_?”

Nothing comes out when Aelin opens her mouth to defend herself. She’s without a proper explanation because Aelin doesn’t know when it happened, just that it has. At some point, Aelin started meticulously keeping track of what she ate each day, allowing herself to reach an unhealthy level of obsession—assuming she ate at all. Her appetite is evasive sometimes, a symptom of depression, she’s learned.

Rowan’s eyes are full of concern, and he drops his hand to her lap as a silent form of empathy.

“I…” Aelin swallows. “Fuck.”

She got caught up in it all, worrying about the fashion headlines and pregnancy conspiracies. Before, Aelin never would have concerned herself with all of the media bullshit; it was her and the guys versus the world. Now, it feels like it’s just her versus the wolves.

“So,” Rowan begins, nudging the plate towards Aelin. “I won’t make you eat it if you really don’t want it, but I am willing to share if you’re interested.”

When he offers her the first bite, she takes it and tries not to pay too much attention to the pleased look on Rowan’s face. Aelin sends him a watery smile. “Thanks.”

##  **The Cadre Attends Thea Whitethorn’s Birthday Party.**

The party is over before Aelin knows it, and soon she’s curled up on the couch with Vaughan, cuddling the equally drunk author as Rowan bids everyone goodbye. She feels a little like the quirky aunt at the family gathering, drinking too much wine and saying weird shit. It doesn’t bother her as much as she thought it would.

Lorcan and Elide leave quietly, and Thea hugs them both tightly before letting them go. The birthday girl’s friends have all gone home with their parents, leaving Rowan’s friends lingering. Aelin is studiously working on ignoring Thea’s grandparents. A part of her brain that sounds suspiciously like Evalin tells her to be polite and strike up a conversation, but even Evalin and Rhoe ignored Thea’s blood family, politely leaving after the cake.

Awkward.

“Alright, Ace,” Vaughan says with a sigh, wiggling to free himself of her weight. Aelin frowns, rolling away from him to let him rise. There are very few people left; Thea’s just said her sweet goodbyes to the rest of the gang, going for a slumber party with her grandparents.

He taps her on the nose, sparing her a cunning, quiet smile. “You be on your best behavior tonight, you drunk.”

Aelin sticks her tongue out at him, and Vaughan chuckles, heading off to call his taxi and head home. She’ll miss him once he’s gone; his vacation in Doranelle is nearing its end.

Suddenly, it’s just Aelin and Rowan.

He flops onto the couch beside Aelin, and she prays that he can’t hear how her heart hammers in her chest. It’s silly that she’s _nervous_. It’s only Rowan. _It’s Rowan_.

“Thanks for coming, Aelin,” he tells her, smiling lazily at her. Rowan looks exhausted from wrangling kids and parents and friends and in-laws all day. Aelin should probably make her excuses and head home soon. “It was nice to have you here, in my corner.”

Aelin smiles softly. “I’m always in your corner, Ro,” she tells him. “You’re the only person who really likes me. If I ditch you, I’m screwed.”

Rowan rolls his eyes. “Plenty of people like you, Ae,” he insists, forever supplying her with a confidence boost. “The rest just don’t understand you.”

“Wow,” she jokes, grinning. “That beer made you soft, huh?”

He laughs. “Yeah, let’s blame it on the beer.”

Aelin glances at her phone, at a loss of what to say next. She sighs. “Right. I guess it’s time for me to head on out.”

She doesn’t miss the disappointment on Rowan’s face at her announcement. Aelin smiles apologetically, but Rowan speaks before she can say something else.

“You know, you’re not the only one that gave me a present for Thea’s birthday,” Rowan admits. Aelin raises her brow, a little annoyed by the revelation even if it’s silly. “Fenrys and Connall left me with a present that I still think I should murder them for. Gods, if Lilly or John had seen it.”

Aelin perks up. “What did they get you?”

Rowan groans; it's funny considering that he’s the one who brought it up. Aelin watches him procure a little bag, dangling it from his fingers and frowning like a disapproving father. Aelin squints, and then her face lights up, amused.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Weed?” Rowan supplies drily. “The twins suggested that I take advantage of a night off to _chill_.” He rolls his eyes as he explains himself, exasperated but not by her. “Along with a few other activities that I will not repeat.”

Aelin grins. “Now, I just wanna know what they said!”

Rowan huffs. “I will die before I repeat those words.”

She giggles at him before biting her lip in thought. “So,” she says. “Is there a particular reason you’ve brought this up to me, Mr. Whitethorn?”

“I thought you might want to indulge with me, Ms. Galathynius,” he tells her, eyes lighting up at her use of his last name. Aelin feels silly with amusement. “For old times sake.”

Then he hesitates, looking alarmed. “Unless—I mean, I wouldn’t want to…” Rowan coughs, clearing his throat. “I know you’re trying to be better and—Shit, that was so thoughtless of me.”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” she says in a scolding tone. “You are a terrible influence.” Aelin laughs, taking the bag from him and turning it over in her fingers. She grins. “I totally don’t mind. Let’s do it—for old times sake.”

##  **The Wendlyn Music Awards Announce Nominations...**

“I know that I’m a little late for this, but—“ Aelin stops talking to take a hit, sucking the smoke deep into her lungs and holding it there. She resumes her train of thought with her next exhale, the smoke escaping as she speaks. “—I cannot believe you have a fucking kid.”

Rowan’s laugh is a little hoarse from the smoke. It makes Aelin’s skin break into goose flesh, and her face heat inexplicably. The worst thing she’s ever done is realize the depth of her feelings for the man sitting beside her on the cold bathroom tile, leaning lazily against the bathtub, and smiling at her like she’s his best friend.

The best thing, Aelin corrects. It’s the best thing she’s ever done.

“Trust me,” he says, tapping the end of the joint to put it out. That’s a lot of weed for just the two of them, and they’re not looking to get lost, so much as they’re just trying to relax. “It still surprises the shit out of me, too.”

Aelin laughs at the honesty of his words.

“But I wouldn’t change it for a thing,” he adds with a sigh. “I love that girl in a way I didn’t think possible. She’s… my kid.”

Aelin smiles. She’s enjoying watching the tension dissipate from his shoulders in the hours since the party concluded. It’s taken a while, but it seems like whatever words Lilly said to him earlier have finally begun to melt away. Fenrys and Connall are geniuses.

“Me, too,” Aelin tells him, inexplicable tears pricking at her eyes. She blames the wine. Too much of it always makes Aelin a little mopey. “I can’t believe I missed out on so much time.”

Rowan drops a hand to her lap and squeezes her leg just above her knee. The gesture feels so natural as if it’s something he does all the time.

Aelin meets his deep stare; the message is clear. _I’m sorry, too._

She swallows back the wave of emotion, leaning into his side and enjoying the feel of his warm body pressed against hers. Rowan lifts an arm in an invitation, and she snuggles into his side, resting her head over the steady thrum of his heart. It seems a little fast, but Aelin is too chicken to call him out on it. Besides, hers isn’t doing too much better.

For a long time, no one says anything. Aelin savors being held by Rowan; it makes her feel like some precious, something appreciated—loved. It’s a lot to handle in her current state of inebriation.

Yet, she can’t shake the little seed of insecurity planted in her head by Thea’s grandmother, can’t stop picturing the haughty look in her eyes or the way she managed to look down on Aelin while sitting on the couch. The combination of wine and weed doesn’t help matters.

“Your mother-in-law doesn’t like me, does she?” Aelin hates the remorse in her voice, but this is Rowan. If there’s anyone she can let her guard down with, it’s him. She prays her words don’t upset him, that they don’t cause the tension to return.

It takes Rowan a second to answer. When he does, his voice is defeated. “No, Aelin. It’s not you that she doesn’t like.”

His eyes are trained upward, but there’s no mistaking the grim set of his profile. Aelin waits for him to explain himself, but Rowan stays quiet. She nudges him with an elbow, saying, “I’m too high to read between the lines right now, Ro.”

Rowan laughs softly, flicking her nose. Aelin gasps, scowling at him, but Rowan’s not scared of her. He heaves a deep sigh and rubs a hand down his face, searching for the right words. Aelin waits for him to put them together. Nothing good ever comes from forcing something out of Rowan.

“Fuck,” he says, still not looking at her. “I guess I did say I needed stronger shit to talk about this, huh?”

“I can go get the wine,” she tells him lightheartedly. Rowan sends her a small smile in response. As much as Aelin wants to know, Rowan’s hesitation makes her nervous; she doesn’t want to push him, adding, “You know, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

And suddenly, the words spill from him.

“I left Lyria,” Rowan whispers. Aelin sucks in a sharp breath, surprised. “Or, I guess, she left me? We left each other? It was fucked either way, but it was over.” His next inhale is shaky, and it breaks her heart into a million pieces. Rowan hisses, rubbing at his face. “And then she fucking _died_.”

“Rowan…” Aelin scrambles for the words she wants to speak, something to make him feel better. She leans away from him to get a better look at his face, and Rowan lets his arm fall away, easily, never one to hold her against her will.

He watches her with detached, guarded eyes. Aelin realizes that Rowan is expecting an adverse reaction from her, for anger or betrayal or both. After everything they went through during his relationship with Lyria, it wouldn’t be too far fetched.

It hurts like a bitch for Aelin to only find out now; Rowan’s relationship tore their friendship apart. There wasn’t any room for the two best friends with Lyria in the picture; it just didn’t work—for reasons that took Aelin until their wedding day to figure out. She suddenly understands Lorcan’s careful words of advice, caught between two friends.

Aelin wants to be mad at Rowan; that would undoubtedly be easier than this horrible feeling pressing between her lungs. Yet, she can’t help remembering all the times that Rowan reached out to her before Lyria passed… and how she ignored him, built an impenetrable wall between the two of them.

She wants to say something—anything—to make him feel better, to provide Rowan just a little bit of comfort. “I’m so—”

“Please,” he croaks, stopping Aelin in her tracks. “Don’t apologize. You’re the last person who should feel bad for my sorry ass.”

There isn’t much for Aelin to say to that; she meets his shuttered expression, reaching out and trailing her fingers across his cheek. Rowan’s breath hitches from the touch, and everything goes still.

He’d left Lyria. The woman he’d loved, married. The mother of his child. Aelin knows how hard that must have been for him; it’s not the kind of decision that comes easily.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you,” she tells Rowan. He opens his mouth to protest, but Aelin hushes him, brushing her thumb across his lips as she holds his face. “I’m sorry I pushed you away when you needed me, and I’m sorry that I ignored all your attempts to get in touch. I totally get why you wouldn’t return my calls.”

Rowan drops his head into her hand, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up in the first place.”

It’s not a confession, but Aelin thinks it also kind of is.

“She—“ Aelin chokes on the confession trying to burst from her lungs. It can’t change anything, would only hurt Rowan more, but Aelin is starting to suspect that she can’t move forward without letting it out.

Aelin looks away from him, but Rowan sees right through it, lifting his head from her hand. Aelin hates that he never misses a thing. “What?”

She sends him a look. _You won’t like it._

_That’s okay. I want to know._ His green eyes plead, open and vulnerable.

“Uh.” Aelin lets out a strangled laugh. She retreats from him entirely, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. Rowan’s guard falls back into place, making him sit straighter, causing his face to go cold.

“She came to my apartment,” Aelin whispers, staring at the pink nail polish on her toes. Thea did a terrible job painting them, but Aelin hasn’t gotten around to fixing it. “When she found out she was pregnant—before she told you.”

She can’t bring herself to look at him, to see the betrayal written in his face, but now that Aelin’s started to speak the words, she can’t seem to stop them.

“Um, she didn’t tell me that at first, though, just showed up at the apartment in the middle of the day without warning.” Aelin keeps her head bowed, hiding her red cheeks. “She… asked me to stay away—to walk away from our friendship.”

Aelin doesn’t know why she pauses. Maybe she’s hoping Rowan will say something and end her suffering. She should know that he’s not the type to interject. “I told her if there was a problem that she needed to talk to you. That it wasn’t appropriate for her to approach me like that.”

She chances a glance at her friend. Aelin looks away quickly, horrified by the cold fury on his face. She clears her throat. “So, she told me she was pregnant, and I—I totally flipped out and told her to leave. I, uh. It wasn’t my best work.”

Aelin swallows the tears that threaten and keeps her eyes trained on the floor. The memory of Rowan’s angry face is burned onto her retina, and she counts the seconds until he finally puts her out of her misery and speaks.

“Is that—“ Rowan stops, clears his throat and tries again. “Is that why you said what you did? At the party?”

Her birthday party. Aelin thinks about the fallout from Rowan’s fight with Arobynn, how Sam and Lyria both saw it for what it was. She remembers calling Rowan out on the fucked up game they were playing with themselves—hears Rowan’s rejection. His refusal to acknowledge it.

“No.” Aelin swallows. Her hands shake, so she clasps them together to hide it. “I asked for space for me. For us. To try and save the friendship.”

_Because I loved you._ The words hang unspoken in the air.

“And then the wedding—you didn’t come,” Rowan says. It’s not a question, but Aelin knows what he’s trying to figure out. “Because you didn’t like Lyria?”

He’s not wrong, Aelin thinks. It feels terrible to even think the words in her mind. She always wanted to like Lyria, always wanted to be her friend via some fucked up end result of denial, but in the end, _Aelin didn’t like Lyria._

Maybe she could have, though. If Aelin had tried harder or been less of a fuck up. Or, if she hadn’t overheard what Lyria said that day in her kitchen to Rowan, calling her toxic and telling her boyfriend to walk away from Aelin. It's hard to say now.

“Not exactly.” Aelin runs her fingers through her hair, thinking she could go for another hit right about now. This was so not what she signed up for when Rowan asked if she wanted to get high, even if the conversation is a necessary one. Way past due.

“I just…” She sighs. “I ditched because of me. I couldn’t do it. You know?”

“Yeah.” Rowan’s gaze is full of knowledge. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, glancing away from her and to his hands. Before he speaks again, he meets Aelin’s eye. “I know.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces Tour Dates. Is She Coming To A Stadium Near You?**

They fall into silence from there, lighting back up and passing the weed back and forth. Aelin can’t find anything else to say on the matter—at least not anything she’s ready to delve into. There’s already so much to process from what little they’ve shared. Aelin expects they’ll be unpacking their tumultuous past for a while.

Rowan looks like he feels similarly, eyes dark and mouth set firm. He hasn’t said anything for a while now, but Aelin is okay with that. The silence has been helpful as she deals with all of the thoughts running through her mind.

Aelin is very thankful that Thea wanted to go with her grandparents for the evening. Tonight feels like one of those nights that go on forever and ever, tearing them down into a million tiny pieces before building them back up into something better. Yet despite the heaviness of the room and the seriousness of their conversation, Aelin’s heart feels lighter than it has in years without the burden of those little secrets weighing it down. Rowan must feel the same, she thinks, as the conversation returns to something lighter.

Rowan tells her quietly about how excited Thea is to hear the next album. Aelin is bringing it to them in a matter of days for a preview. No scary man with a laptop required.

They both smile over the thought of Thea jamming out to Aelin’s new music. It seems odd that Lyria’s daughter would be safe, common ground for them, but she is. They’ve formed a unit— the three of them, plus Fleetfoot. Aelin’s going to miss hanging out all of the time.

“I can’t believe you’re going on tour already,” Rowan says remorsefully when Aelin says as much.

“I know,” Aelin agrees, holding the joint out for Rowan to take. She’s resting her head in his lap now, legs stretched out across the bathroom floor. She’s pleased to say that Rowan is the kind of guy that cleans his bathroom meticulously, but she’s high enough that she probably wouldn’t be worried anyway.

“I feel like I just got back,” she tells him. The tour isn’t for a few more months, but the press tour begins soon, hopping between cities and interviews and events. “But you know how the two-year cycle goes: nine months on tour and one year to write the next album. Then rinse, repeat.”

Rowan furrows his brow. “What about the other three months?”

“Those are for sleeping,” she tells him. Rowan chuckles, threading his fingers into her hair; Aelin’s eyes fall closed, and she hums, enjoying the feeling. She loves it when people play with her hair. She sighs.

“You deserve it,” Rowan tells her earnestly, massaging her scalp with the pads of his fingers. Aelin must make an embarrassing noise because Rowan laughs again. “Make sure you take some time for yourself before you start on your next album. Otherwise, I’ll have to beat the twins up.”

Aelin laughs. It sounds more like a giggle. “You’d rather kick Dorian’s ass. But don’t worry, it’s already done.”

“Damn right,” he mutters. A pause. “What do you mean that it’s already done?”

“After the tour, I’m free to do as I please,” Aelin tells him with an excited smile. “My contract with Damaris doesn’t go into effect until the following year. I’m taking some time to do stuff—be with family, relax, whatever.”

Rowan’s fingers still in her hair and Aelin frowns. She thought he’d be a little happier to hear her news; Aelin peers up at him from her place in his lap, surprised by the funny expression on his face. Then Rowan smiles, a big beautiful thing; his fingers resume their previous activity, playing with her hair.

His laugh is a little incredulous. “I look forward to it, Ace.”

Then Rowan huffs. “I can’t believe we’re hiding in my bathroom and getting high. It’s like I’m twenty all over again.”

“Wow,” Aelin says, blowing her smoke at his face and earning a scowl. “You’re boring as fuck now, huh?”

He glares at her, pinching her in the ribs and making her squeal. Rowan laughs at her reaction, the motion shaking Aelin’s head in his lap. She scrambles upright to aim her glare his way, but Rowan just smiles, brushing her hair out of her face. The look in his eyes takes Aelin’s breath away. Her eyes fall to his lips without permission, and Rowan’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. Aelin feels dizzy; her heart races.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” she tells him when he leans forward, closing the distance between their faces. His pine scent washes over her, and Aelin immediately regrets ruining the moment.

“Not romantically—for depression,” she clarifies, quickly realizing her poor choice of words. Aelin presses her forehead to Rowan's and sighs. “Like, lay down on the kitchen floor and can’t get back up depression. With drugs and therapy and shit. Basically, it’s official: my head’s all fucked up.”

Rowan doesn’t say anything at first. She’s too embarrassed to open her eyes and look at his face, feeling rather than seeing him pull away. He shifts his entire body closer to hers, closing the distance between them, and using his fingers to lift her face up to his.

“I think it makes you interesting,” he tells her softly. Regardless of the conversation, his eyes sparkle with mirth. “You’d be boring otherwise—just like me.”

Aelin punches him reflexively, and Rowan chuckles, clutching his bicep where she hit him. Somehow, Rowan knew precisely what she needed to hear, knew not to give her pity or remorse.

And for some reason, it makes her burst into tears.

“Hey, hey,” Rowan coos, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his lap. “It’s okay. Everything's a-okay. I was only kidding.”

Aelin sniffles unattractively, pressing her face into his shoulder and wetting his shirt with her tears. Rowan hugs her close, tangles his fingers in her hair, and whispers sweet nothings to her as she cries. She doesn’t know how she ever thought Rowan would reject her, think less of her for it.

She cries, and Rowan lets her, holding her together while she falls apart. Eventually, the tears subside, and Aelin becomes aware of the soft words Rowan is speaking, his lips pressed into the crown of her head, and his hands rubbing comforting circles into her skin.

After a while, he says, “I don’t remember you being such a sad stoner, Ace.”

“You’re an asshole,” she croaks, and Rowan barks a laugh at that, hiding a smile in her hair. Aelin leans more heavily into him, sighing. “But, thanks.”

“Any time,” Rowan tells her. After that, Rowan declares that they’ve both had enough to smoke, and Aelin agrees readily. The crying has left her tired and ready for some sleep.

Aelin smiles through Rowan‘s awkward invitation to her to stay the night, telling her he can sleep on the couch, and she can have his bed. They get into an argument about the logistics, and Aelin suggests that she take an Uber home to avoid the trouble. Eventually, they both agree to share the bed. 

Rowan grumbles, trying to be a gentleman, but Aelin just shoots him a suggestive smile, propping her head up on an elbow.

“What? Are you scared of me, Buzzard?” she teases from where she’s curled under his covers and made herself comfortable. The sheets smell of Rowan, and she’s never felt more home.

Rowan wears a funny expression as he watches her. He answers more honestly than he intends to, based upon the frown that follows. “Very.”

##  **Lorcan Salvaterre Spotted Out with Elide Lochan.**

The next morning, Aelin wakes up to find a pair of forest green eyes smiling at her—but they aren’t Rowan’s. Thea Whitethorn watches Aelin from beside the bed, hugging her stuffed pony and smiling shyly. Thea giggles as she groans, rubbing at her eyes.

“Hey there, Potato,” Aelin mumbles, blinking away the sleep and trying to clear the confusion. Thea stayed with her grandparents last night. She wasn’t supposed to come back until later. Aelin groans. “What time is it?”

Thea giggles at the silly adult. “Did you have a sleepover?”

Aelin flushes in embarrassment at the little girl’s innocent words. She’s not sure she’d call the way she and Rowan curled around each other last night as innocent. 

“I had a sleepover with Gammy,” Thea tells her happily. “We had doughnuts!”

Her giddiness causes a silly smile to spread across Aelin’s tired face. “That sounds like fun. What’s your favorite kind?”

The little girl lights up at the question, and the two of them dive headfirst into a conversation about the pros of chocolate frosting or sprinkles—or both. Aelin is dead set on the superiority of chocolate donuts with chocolate frosting, but Thea is a simple girl. She likes pink frosting on hers, finds sprinkles exciting, too.

Thea is sitting with Aelin in the bed when Rowan finds them. They hear Thea’s dad call out for her and the opening and closing of a few doors. As his footsteps come close, Aelin shoots Thea a grin, tickling her sides and making her smile. “Wanna play a game?”

Thea’s eyes widen, and she nods furiously. Aelin bites back her smile, taking the comforter and laying it over Thea’s head. “You gotta be very quiet.”

Thea lets out one last giggle before falling silent. Rowan’s timing is impeccable; he peeks in the door, meeting Aelin’s smile with one of his own.

“Hey,” his voice tickles down Aelin’s spine. Rowan leans on the doorknob, grinning at her. “I didn’t know you were up yet. Have you seen my kid?”

His eyes drop pointedly to the lump in his bed and then to Aelin’s innocent sleepy smile. She barely manages to keep from laugh as he looks to her in question, raising a curious brow and smiling in amusement. Rowan knows exactly what’s going on.

“Nope,” Aelin says. A giggle gives her away immediately, and Aelin just resists the scowl she wants to send the little girl’s way. “No kid in here. Not one. Well, unless I count.”

She winks. Rowan wears a mischievous smile as he enters the room, making a show of looking around. The little girl under the covers can’t stop her giggles.

“I’ve been looking for Thea everywhere,” he says a little louder than necessary. Rowan always has been a terrible actor. “I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” Aelin suggests, smiling like a fool. “I hear she likes to play in the tub.”

“Good idea,” Rowan agrees, walking into the bathroom and calling for Thea. His daughter continues giggling beside Aelin under the covers, and Aelin’s own frame shakes with the need to laugh. They’ll never have to worry about this one sneaking out. Rowan returns with a mock frown; it’s even cuter because Thea can’t see his expression from her hiding space.

“She’s not there either,” he bemoans.

“Eh.” Aelin shrugs. “She’ll come back. They always do—for food and water and stuff.”

Rowan’s eyes shine with amusement. “Guess that means there’s more room for me in the bed.”

“That’s true,” Aelin agrees, gesturing to the bed and patting Thea on the rear. The little girl giggles again. Aelin could cry.

Rowan’s smile stretches wide as he struggles not to laugh; he crawls into the bed, expertly laying atop his daughter and crushing her beneath his frame. Thea squeals, her voice torn between outrage and delight, and the adults break into laughter. Rowan pulls back the covers, looking surprised.

“There she is!” he cries, pulling the little girl out and tickling her sides. “I found her!”

Thea’s laughter is easily the best sound Aelin’s ever heard in her life. She joins the assault against the little girl, turning traitor, and Thea begs for mercy.

At some point, Rowan turns the tables, rallying Thea and tickling Aelin instead. She laughs until she cries, and Aelin didn’t know that her heart could ache with happiness like this. But it does. And she likes it.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces Appearance at the WMA’s, Will Perform** _ **Rain On Me—**_ **with Ansel Briarcliff!**

**-**


	44. Chapter 44

##  **Aelin Galathynius Livestreams, Performing Hit Single _Light On_ for Fans from Her Doranelle Home.**

“It’s a great album, Ae,” Rowan tells her with a smile as they watch Thea dance her little heart out. He lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes crinkling with a fondness for his daughter. “Well, what we’ve managed to hear of it, anyway. Maybe we shouldn’t have invited Thea to the listening party.”

His smile is conspiratorial. Thea somehow managed to hijack control of the sound system from the adults shortly after starting the album, and the little girl seems very happy with replaying a song a few times before moving on to another when she gets bored.

> _I hear the thunder coming down, won’t you rain on me?  
>  Rain on me  
> I hear the thunder coming down, won’t you rain on me?  
> Rain on me_

“Hey,” Aelin defends the little girl quickly, which only broadens Rowan’s smile. She flushes under his attention. “Thea’s the life of the party, Ro. You’re certainly no party animal. But—thanks.”

Aelin ducks her head, hiding her smile from him. Rowan’s opinion about her music always mattered more to her than most, even when they weren’t speaking to each other. Aelin always wondered what he thought of her new releases, wondered if he listened to it and if he liked it. She always wished he was there to give her his input.

Now, here they were, listening to her newest album just before the launch. If he’d hated it, it would be devastating for her. Aelin just… cares about what he thinks of her music—hell, of her. It’s too late to go back and tweak anything now, a little over twenty-four hours before the launch. The album was dropping tomorrow at midnight, Aelin’s first “official” performance the following evening. PR work at its finest.

“I do have the whole album on there for you,” Aelin says, nodding towards the sound system. Rowan raises a brow in question. “This may or may not be a Thea-friendly version.”

Rowan chuckles at her from where he stands in the kitchen, breaking open the wax seal of their second bottle of wine. Aelin thinks it’s funny how much her life has changed since that night at the Sea Dragon. For starters, it brought her and Rowan back together, but it also brought her Thea.

“You know, she’s going to hear it all eventually, right?” Rowan shrugs uncharacteristically, pouring them each another glass of wine. Maybe they’ve already had too much to drink if Rowan wasn’t worried about foul language with Thea, or perhaps, he just wanted to hear all of her music.

“Besides,” he continues, “I don’t think she understands half of it. Although I do appreciate the effort. Don’t get me wrong.”

“Aelin!” Thea calls, tugging on her hand, bringing the attention of the adults back to her. Aelin spares Rowan a knowing smile before following the little girl to the living room. “Let’s dance!”

Rowan laughs from behind them, trailing after them and grinning from ear to ear. They’re only a few tracks in due to Thea restarting all of the songs. It’s the kind of thing that a younger Rowan would have hated, not listening to the album straight through on the first try, but Aelin’s learned that becoming a father has given him incredible patience.

She thinks that it also helps that Thea has Rowan totally wrapped around her little fingers.

“You sure this is your kid, Rowan?” Aelin asks shrewdly. “She’s way more fun than you.”

Rowan snorts. Though, he still sounds offended as he grumbles, “I’m plenty of fun.”

“Dance!” The three-year-old orders. Aelin cracks a grin; Thea is also surprisingly bossy for being Rowan’s daughter. “C’mon!”

Aelin giggles, but she obliges quickly, thanking Rowan with a sly smile as he hands Aelin her glass of wine and returns to his seat on the couch. Thea hasn’t asked her father to dance yet, and Aelin isn’t brave enough to ask herself. She knows Rowan well enough to acknowledge that he won’t do so until forced.

So, instead, Aelin dances along with Thea and drinks with Rowan. The mood in the apartment is infectious, light and happy, and Aelin can’t stop smiling even as her face aches with the effort. She’s choosing to focus on the now, on this happy moment, rather than think of the future.

Aelin is going on tour soon, and she’ll be away from these two for a while. Even just thinking of missing out on a couple of days with them makes her sad; Aelin doesn’t want to know what being on the road will look like.

> _I don’t really know a lot about love  
>  A lot about love, a lot about love  
> But you’re in my head, you’re in my blood  
> And it feels so good, it hurts so much_

Thea and Aelin are belting out the chorus of her song when Rowan’s phone rings. He has to turn down the music to hear the person on the other end, and Thea complains about the interruption while Aelin snickers, heckling the father like the troublemaker she is. She’s definitely had a bit too much wine; it’s making her sillier than usual.

Rowan hangs up the phone, rolling his eyes at the pair of them before saying, “Dinner is almost here.”

Aelin and Thea cheer as one, and Rowan cracks another one of his rare, bright smiles. She can tell that he hates being so entertained by them; he’d much rather frown in disapproval.

“I will be right back,” he says, raising a brow in question.

Aelin only rolls her eyes at him; he’s always fussing about passing off any parental duties to her. She sends a pointed look in Thea’s direction; the little girl bobs her head to the soft music, sitting beside Aelin on the floor and waiting for the next chorus. No trouble at all.

“I’ve got everything under control here, Buzzard,” Aelin tells him with a salute.

“Yeah, Buzzard!” Thea echoes without looking up from her toy. Rowan looks outraged.

Aelin howls with laughter, and Thea giggles, always pleased with herself for entertaining the adults, even if she doesn’t quite understand why or how. Rowan’s glare flicks back and forth between the two of them.

“Maybe I should separate you two,” he grumbles, rising from the couch and pocketing his wallet. Rowan points an accusing finger at them. “Don’t play anymore while I’m gone, okay? Wait for me.”

Thea blows a raspberry in her father’s direction, and Aelin sends him an innocent smile. She has absolutely no idea where Thea learned that move. Rowan’s exasperation deepens, but he smiles fondly at them just the same.

“I’ll do my best,” Aelin tells the father. Although Rowan doesn’t seem wildly convinced by her promise. He rolls his eyes one more time before leaving the apartment to grab their food from downstairs.

Aelin struggles to sip her wine and smile at the same time. As the door closes behind Rowan, she leans toward Thea, smiling at the little girl. “What do you say we restart the song, huh? He’ll never know.”

Thea beams, scrambling to change the song for them without another word.

##  **Ansel Briarcliff Shares Airport Pic, _On the Way to the WMAs._**

“New song!” Thea announces, already tapping on the phone screen to change the tracks. Aelin doesn’t manage to stop her in time, too busy trying to fathom how the toddler is so skilled with technology. Thea can wrangle it better than Aelin on some occasions.

The piano intro for the next song begins, and Aelin swallows away the nerves at the realization. She wasn’t ready for this song to play so soon, but Aelin must have gotten confused by the missing explicit tracks on the Thea-friendly playlist. It snuck up on her.

> _I, I loved you in secret  
>  First sight, yeah, we love without reason  
> Oh, twenty-five years old  
> Oh, how were you to know, and  
> My, my love had been frozen  
> Deep blue, but you painted me golden  
> Oh, and you held me close  
> Oh, how was I to know that_

Whatever, Aelin decides, shrugging off the worries with the help of the wine. In all honesty, Aelin writes songs inspired by her past with Rowan—or even blatantly about him presently—all of the time. And either he’s chosen to ignore all the hints, or worse, Rowan doesn’t even see them in the first place. Aelin doubts that today will be the day that everything clicks into place.

> _I could’ve spent forever with your hands in my pockets  
>  Picture of your face in an invisible locket  
> You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it  
> I had a bad feeling_

There’s no denying the bit of disappointment that comes from the truth of her thoughts, though. Aelin definitely wishes that Rowan would notice. She thinks that he has, believes that there’s _something_ coming. It’s just—it’s taken forever for them to even get where they are.

“Let’s dance!” Thea tells Aelin, holding out her hands to the adult as the chorus begins.

Aelin giggles at the toddler’s happiness. “Yes, ma'am.”

> _And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis  
>  People started talking, putting us through our paces  
> I knew there was no one in the world who could take it  
> I had a bad feeling_

Neither Aelin nor Rowan could tell with certainty whether or not Thea was actually aware that the music belonged to Aelin, that the woman in front of her was the same one singing on the radio. But Rowan was very sure that Thea loved it. Either way, it made Aelin happy to see Thea dancing to her songs, singing along.

Gladly, Aelin dances alongside the toddler, following Thea’s lead and letting loose as the chorus builds. She can’t wait for Rowan to bring Thea to one of her concerts and for Thea to get to see it all live. It’ll be a lot of fun.

“Do you like the song?” Aelin asks Thea, shamelessly fanning her own ego. When prompted, the girl links her fingers with Aelin’s, and they spin together.

Thea grins. “Yeah!”

> _But we were dancing  
>  Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied  
> Yeah, we were dancing  
> Like it was the first time, first time  
> Yeah, we were dancing  
> Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied  
> Yeah, we were dancing  
> And I had a bad feeling  
> But we were dancing_

They dance. Aelin keeps getting too caught up laughing at Thea’s antics to take their dance party very seriously, and soon, Aelin forgets all about her concerns about Rowan hearing the song. She doubts she’d be able to keep it a secret from him for very long, anyway. Besides, neglecting to put a particular track on his copy would only make it more suspicious.

The front door opens and closes. When Aelin glances up, she finds Rowan watching the two of them, arms full of food and a smile on his face. He sighs dramatically, and then he disappears into the kitchen. Aelin is pretty sure they’ll be able to earn his forgiveness.

> _I, I loved you in spite of  
>  Deep fears that the world would divide us  
> So, baby, can we dance  
> Oh, through an avalanche?  
> And say, say that we got it  
> I’m a mess, but I’m the mess that you wanted  
> Oh, ‘cause it’s gravity  
> Oh, keeping you with me_

As the chorus returns, Thea gives a dramatic twirl. The little girl collides with Aelin as they dance, and the older woman yelps, unprepared for the force of the toddler’s spin. She stumbles backward, trying to catch herself from taking a fall when strong hands catch her by the waist.

Rowan smiles as he sets Aelin back on her feet, and they both laugh at the moment, each a little wine drunk and giddy. But his hands slide to her back, pressing her body closer to his and making Aelin’s heart race. Her face burns as she links her hands behind his neck, and they start to dance.

Thea, on the other hand, is in her own world, grooving to the beat of her own drum, and utterly oblivious to what’s happening between the adults. She doesn’t care, as long as she has her snacks and her music. Rowan was right about at least one thing: Thea is very easy to please.

They dance together, a little too slow for the music playing in the background, but Aelin’s thoughts are too overwhelmed by Rowan to really notice or care. A nervous little laugh escapes her lips, but Rowan smiles encouragingly. They keep swaying.

> _I’d kiss you as the lights went out  
>  Swaying as the room burned down  
> I’d hold you as the water rushes in  
> If I could dance with you again  
> I’d kiss you as the lights went out  
> Swaying as the room burned down  
> I’d hold you as the water rushes in  
> If I could dance with you again_

It’s the look in Rowan’s eyes that tells Aelin that he knows, that he understands the words better than she’s given him credit for. Gods, Aelin just wishes he would just make a move already, or hell, that she was brave enough to do it herself. She just…Aelin loves him. She loves him, and Aelin is pretty sure that Rowan feels similarly.

But will it change anything? Everything? In a good way? Or bad?

The song ends too quickly for Aelin’s tastes, but it’s Thea’s cheering that tears them apart. Another nervous sound escapes Aelin’s lips as she slides out of Rowan’s arms; his smile is kind and earnest as he releases her, his eyes dark with feeling. Aelin all but trips over the rug in her retreat, flustered under the focus of his intense gaze.

“Who’s ready to eat?” Rowan asks, voice a little rough. He coughs once, looking a little flushed himself.

“Sounds great,” Aelin breathes, trying to regain control over herself. Thea shouts something about noodles, and her eagerness breaks the tension, causing the grown-ups to laugh.

The little girl gives them something to focus on other than each other, and they all head for the kitchen, making themselves at home amongst the takeout and Rowan’s infamous cookies. What would The Cadre fans think if they knew Rowan Whitethorn was a skilled baker, too.

“Can we play the dancing song again?” Thea asks through a mouthful of rice. Rowan looks to Aelin in question, and she’s met with two sets of expressive green eyes. She couldn’t resist either of them if she tried.

She smiles at them. “Sure, Potato. Sounds great.”

##  **_Dear Society_ , Aelin Galathynius’s Third Album Is Out Now!**

Aelin nurses a glass of wine and idles on her phone, waiting for Rowan to return after putting Thea to bed. It took a while to finish their tearful little goodbye, and Aelin was finding it surprisingly difficult not to have a complete meltdown about it. It was silly; she was only going to be gone for a few days.

Conveniently, her phone rings at the thought, startling Aelin with the sight of Essar’s smiling eyes. Aelin sighs; it’s not that she doesn’t want to talk to her assistant. She just doesn’t want another reminder that she has a plane to catch disastrously early tomorrow. It’s a real buzz kill.

What was Aelin going to do when she left for her tour? Another nine months on the road, flying from one city to the next—without Rowan and Thea.

“Are you packed?” Essar asks, sounding a little harried. She always gets a bit flustered before takeoff; Aelin expects that’s her fault. She’s not the best preparer for these things. But that’s what she has Essar for.

Aelin rolls her eyes before glancing at her suitcases in the hall. She’d brought them with her, having every intention of staying with Rowan until she left for the airport.

“Only because you and Lysandra so graciously packed my things. I just have to show up.” Aelin sips her wine.

“Ae, we didn’t pack your clothes to wear day-to-day,” Essar says, sounding worried. “We just picked out your press looks. You packed some regular clothes, right? Or were you planning to get off the plane naked?”

“Oh!” Aelin smiles to herself. “Now there’s an idea. Think of all the press I’d get. Nesryn would love that.”

“You were supposed to finish!” Her assistant cries. “The jet leaves in like five hours, Aelin!”

“Essie,” she begins in a whine. Aelin hates very few things as much as she hates to pack. “You know I don’t know how to dress myself.”

Essar groans. “I’ll go over and get—“

“No, no! Enjoy your evening,” Aelin growls, feeling guilty for ruining Essar’s last night off. She guesses she’ll need to go home after all to finish packing; Aelin was planning on sleeping on the plane, anyway. “You know, I can always just buy more clothes when we land. I’m rich; I can do that kind of thing.”

The sound of a door closing causes Aelin to look up. Rowan’s footsteps tread down the hallway, heading her way.

Essar is still rambling. “Ae, you have press events—“

“Oh, don’t be so type A,” the singer teases. “Live a little, Essie.”

“ _Aelin_ ,” her assistant scolds, sounding suspiciously like Evalin Galathynius. Those two were starting to rub off on one another.

Aelin laughs in response, unworried about the clothes. It didn’t matter how good Aelin looked; someone would find something to critique about her appearance. She could at least be comfortable between press events. “Chill, I’m totally fine—”

Rowan appears in the entryway, face grim with determination. The fierce look in his eyes steals all of Aelin’s breath, and she forgets about whatever she was going to say to Essar. She sucks in a sharp breath of air.

“Es,” she croaks, feeling the weight of the moment. “I gotta go.”

Aelin hangs up the phone, ignoring Essar’s many protests. Knowing her assistant, she’ll likely just call her back, but Aelin’s not very worried about her at the moment. Aelin only has eyes for the man staring down at her, creeping her way with certain, slow steps.

Rowan doesn’t say a word, closing the gap between them until there’s barely any room left for breathing. Aelin’s phone hits the countertop with a clatter, and her hands come up instinctively, bracing herself against Rowan’s upper arms as the man backs her into the cabinets. His hands find her hips.

Aelin’s heart is beating so loudly that she thinks her ears might burst. She waits as Rowan searches her face for something. What he’s looking for, Aelin doesn’t have a clue, but she thinks that she might pass out if this moment drags on any longer. She can’t keep holding her breath like this, too afraid to breathe and disturb whatever it is that is happening in that complicated mind of his.

Then Rowan’s nose brushes her own, a simple and heartbreaking gesture, the kind of move that causes her breath to hitch in her throat. Rowan’s pine-green eyes burn with emotion, watching her, and waiting.

His gaze is still locked on Aelin’s face as he brushes his lips with hers, so light and hesitant that she almost doesn’t feel it. Aelin does, though; she definitely feels it. Her eyes flutter closed at the feelings running through her, dormant embers bursting into flame. Her blood turns molten. 

And then nothing else happens. Aelin leans back to see his face, confused by the delay. Her eyes can’t figure out where to focus, flicking back and forth between his eyes and his full lips. She wants to kiss him again, but Aelin also needs Rowan to say _something_. Anything.

But his face shutters and Rowan pulls away from her, releasing her body and leaving her cold and breathless. Aelin’s fingers dig into his arms to stop him, holding him there against her. Rowan dares to narrow his eyes as she cups his face and pulls him close.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she breathes, tugging Rowan’s face back to hers and pressing her lips to his.

It’s a second before Rowan catches up, but once he does, it’s magic. He grunts ever so softly before leaning into the kiss, causing Aelin’s skin to break into goosebumps. She sighs into it, capturing his bottom lip with her teeth to kiss him better, to taste him after years of wondering. It’s everything she hoped it’d be.

Aelin threads her fingers into Rowan’s hair, holding him in place. Rowan is a willing hostage, pressing his larger frame into hers, moving to cage her in against the counter, and kissing her back with fervor. Aelin moans at the feeling of his tongue tasting her lips, and she parts her mouth with a hum.

Gods, she can’t believe she waited so long for this.

Rowan’s hands drag down her backside, hooking under her thighs and lifting her onto the counter. She gasps at the feeling of the cold marble underneath her, and Rowan has the nerve to laugh, making the kiss messy until they’re breaking apart, smiling foolishly at each other.

“I can’t believe you were going to bail on me,” she rasps, hanging onto his shoulders as if Rowan might change his mind at any moment and bolt. Aelin is done running, but she’ll chase him if she has to. 

“What were you going to do?” Aelin asks him, pinching him in the ribs and earning a hiss. “Kiss me like this is some fucking movie shit, and then lock yourself in your room?”

“I was considering the bathroom,” Rowan admits to her in a lovely low voice that makes her shiver in his arms. He brushes a kiss to the space behind Aelin’s ear in response, making her gasp, and then he presses his face into her neck, breathing her in. “But this is better.”

“Way better,” Aelin agrees. Rowan muffles his hoarse laughter against her skin, and Aelin giggles, running her hands down his back. Their eyes meet, warm and happy, but Rowan’s eyes drop back to her mouth, his thoughts clear as day.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he tells her, licking his lips in anticipation.

Aelin bites her lip, then tells him with a sly smile, “Make it count this time.”

For once, Rowan doesn’t roll his eyes at her, but she thinks he kind of wants to. Instead, his hands travel down her hips, gripping her ass to tug her to the end of the counter and press her flush against him. Aelin hums, hooking a leg around his waist as he threads his fingers into her hair, cradling her cheeks in his palms. Aelin frowns; he still hasn’t kissed her as he promised.

“I should’ve done this weeks ago,” Rowan tells her earnestly, running a thumb across Aelin’s lips. She’s too much trouble to resist the urge to stick out her tongue, catching his finger with her teeth. Rowan growls. “ _Fuck—_ years ago.”

His lips crash into hers at last, impatient and wanting, and Aelin moans into his mouth, deepening the kiss right away and clinging to his shoulders. She runs her nails down his back, searching for the hem of his shirt; Aelin needs him undressed. Immediately.

Rowan kisses her like he means it, desperate and all-encompassing. He tugs at her hair, tilting her head upward to kiss her better, and Aelin whimpers into it, lost in the sensations. His tongue in her mouth, his fingers in her hair, the hand slipping up the back of her shirt—it’s a lot to handle.

As Rowan’s lips trail down her neck, Aelin closes her eyes, savoring the feel of his mouth on her. It’s a sweet spot of hers, her neck, and she melts into Rowan’s hands, sighing as he licks and bites his way down her throat. If he leaves a mark, Aelin will never live it down with her team, but she’s not really all that worried about it. Besides, this is _totally_ worth it.

But Aelin wants to kiss him more, so she pulls his face away from her throat to claim his lips again. Rowan laughs into it, but he moans as Aelin arches into his body, pressing her chest against his and shifting her hips against the length of him. Aelin gasps, does it again.

The mood changes, turning hot and needy. Rowan’s fingers dig into her skin a little harder than necessary, and Aelin can’t stop rocking her body against his now that she’s started. Fuck, she’s on fire, aching. She needs this, needs him now. Who cares about anything else than _this_.

Rowan’s fingers press into her chest, soft and experimental; Aelin whimpers, arches into his hands, and all but begs for more. Rowan’s lips are everywhere all at once. His hands burn her skin in the best way. Aelin keeps making the most embarrassing little noises, but every time Rowan groans her name, she feels a little less self-conscious about it. He’s just as into it as she is.

“Rowan,” Aelin says, pressing her forehead to his cheek and trying to catch her breath. She swallows, gasping as Rowan presses another kiss to her neck in acknowledgment. His teeth scrape her pulse point, making her moan.

“I—” She lets out a breathless laugh as he interrupts her next attempt to speak, catching her lips for another kiss. Aelin forgets her request for a while, melting back into Rowan’s hands, but then his fingers get brave, sliding beneath the waistband of her leggings to grope at her ass.

“Take me to bed, Rowan,” Aelin gasps out between kisses, remembering what she wanted. “Please.”

His huffs a laugh, but Rowan’s hands are already lifting her from the counter. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

##  **Is the New Aelin Galathynius Album the Last? Rumors Tell of A Split From Adarlan Records.**

Rowan sets Aelin on the bed gently, like she’s something breakable, and tears prick in the corners of her eyes. His tenderness is a lot to handle any day but combined with the wine and the feelings coursing through her, Aelin is a little overwhelmed. In a good way, she decides. This is all very, very good.

He kisses his way down the front of Aelin’s body, kneeling above her and taking her in with a soft expression. Aelin whimpers as he leans away, and Rowan chuckles, his laughter disappearing underneath his shirt as he yanks it off over his head.

Aelin’s mouth goes dry at the sight of him. It’s been a while since the last time she saw Rowan shirtless. It’s a lot different when she’s lying in his bed, not quite the same as a mid-show strip down. He’s as gorgeous as ever—more so even. It’s… Rowan.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her tenderly, leaning in and pressing kisses to her throat. “I could kiss you all night.”

Aelin hums her agreement, fingers skimming down Rowan’s sides, across his stomach, and back up his chest to cup his face. She takes her time admiring the tanned skin newly revealed to her, likes the feeling of it under her hands—the heat of his body and the weight of him above her.

Rowan chuckles, dragging his lips to her face and drawing her in for another makeout session. Aelin forgets all about her desperation to get him undressed, sinking into his embrace and wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him near.

“Aelin,” Rowan says her name with a breathless laugh, groans as her fingers brush experimentally at his erection. Aelin’s intent is clear as day, she thinks. So, she doesn’t know why he’s pulling her hands away from him, kissing them apologetically.

She frowns, and he explains, “We can’t have sex.”

“What?” Aelin barely hears him through the haze of her lust. “Why not?”

“We’re drunk,” Rowan says, ceasing his worship of her body. Aelin feels a rush of cold and tries to tug him back down to her immediately. He smiles, kisses her lips chastely.

“It’s okay,” Aelin tells him, panting. “I want this. Want you.”

“Fuck,” Rowan swears as she presses a heavy kiss to his lips. Aelin threads her fingers back into his hair, and Rowan leans on an elbow above her. He makes a frustrated noise before pulling away and flopping onto his back with a groan.

Aelin turns her head to look at him; Rowan runs a hand down his face roughly, also clearly frustrated by his inconvenient honor. It makes her feel at least a little better about the rejection.

He says, “I had so much to drink tonight. We both did. I can’t—I’m so sorry. This isn’t how I want it to be. Not—“ He rubs at his jaw. ”Not after all this time.”

“Fuck,” Aelin swears, rolling onto her side to catch her breath and clear her sex-addled brain. Her body aches for him so badly it hurts, but Rowan isn’t exactly wrong. They’ve both had a lot to drink. She’s not the only one afraid to mess this up, it would seem.

“I’m so hot and bothered right now,” she whines, covering her face with her hands. “ _Shit_.”

Rowan bites his lip, looking uneasy as he watches her. An apology shines in his eyes.“I—“

Aelin stops him, leaning on her elbows to kiss him again. Rowan frowns a little, but he doesn’t reject the small gesture of affection. Aelin gives him a few tender pecks, and then she smiles at him, brushing his hair out of his face and kissing his nose. It makes him laugh as she hoped it would.

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Aelin says, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. Now that she’s started kissing him, Aelin can’t seem to stop. “How could I ever be mad at a guy for looking out for me? At you for being you, huh?”

Rowan releases a breath of relief, shoulders relaxing. When he kisses her this time, it’s different. Softer like before. Aelin sighs into his mouth, but he pulls away too quickly for her liking.

“So,” he says, ducking his head to hide a smile. There’s no missing the insecurity in his voice. “That happened.”

“It did,” she agrees, smiling at him to assuage his worries. Aelin grins before pressing a kiss to wherever she can reach first. Rowan laughs a little, tilting his face to catch her lips with his.

“What now?” Aelin asks as they break the kiss. She frowns at him. “Do we go to sleep?”

Rowan laughs. “That’s usually what people do this time of night.”

##  **Dorian Havilliard Teases Upcoming Project with the Moonbeam Twins, Fenrys and Connall.**

They share a few shy smiles as they get ready for bed, and slowly, the fire between them begins to cool off. Aelin’s never felt less sexy than when she’s brushing her teeth, but Rowan’s eyes still fill with heat when Aelin comes out of the bathroom in one of his shirts. 

Aelin earns an arrogant grin when she asks Rowan to keep his shirt off, and she cries a little as she sets her alarm. She can’t believe how soon she’ll have to get up to go to the airport. Rowan hugs her from behind, and Aelin turns in his embrace to wrap her arms around his back.

They hug quietly until Rowan presses a kiss to the tip of her nose and says, “I’m going to miss you, Ace.”

She sniffs. “I’m very missable.”

Rowan laughs, squeezing her tight. He’s more aware of her evasive techniques than Aelin is. She hates that they waited until now, but the only person she can really blame is herself. She’s such a chicken.

“We’re still going to make out, right?” Aelin asks him as she slips under his covers. Rowan laughs softly, tugging her body close to his for a languorous kiss. 

Aelin considers that a yes, humming into his mouth and leaning in close. The pair kiss until they fall asleep, Rowan holding Aelin tightly through the night. More than once, she stirs to the feeling of his lips against her hair, his nose brushing her neck as Rowan nuzzles in close. She’s never felt more loved in her life, even if no one’s actually said the words aloud yet.

It’s not the same; Aelin was right about that. Yet, she was wrong, too. Because it doesn’t feel all that different after all.

##  **Don’t Miss the WMAs this Sunday!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been one heck of a week, and what a way to end it. I bet you guys thought this moment was never coming, huh? I know it definitely felt that way sometimes, so SURPRISE!


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! It was so nice to finally publish that big scene at last; it’s been haunting me for weeks. I promise I’ll try to keep from separating our lovebirds for too long! 

##  **Aelin Galathynius is Set to Break Another Record...**

It feels as if Aelin’s alarm buzzes mere seconds later. The clock says it’s already been a few hours, but Aelin’s body vehemently disagrees with that fact. There’s no way it’s time to get up already, but Ress and Brullo will be here soon. They’d double back to her apartment, and then they’d head off to the airport.

With no small amount of mental protest, Aelin gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom. She gets ready to go fairly quickly, not really worrying about her appearance at two in the morning. There were better things for her to be doing, such as sleeping.

Aelin can hear Rowan stirring in the bed as she collects her things, trying to be quiet in the dark but being relatively unsuccessful at it. It would be easier to do with a light on, but she didn’t want to wake Rowan up. Not yet. He was sleeping so soundly, and Aelin didn’t have the heart to ruin it for him.

“Aelin.” She hears her name and smiles, glancing Rowan’s way to watch him reach out across the bed for her. She’d kill to still be under the covers with him, waking up lazily and sharing kisses… maybe a little more.

Gods, Aelin couldn’t believe that she had to leave.

But her security would be there soon, and Aelin was still trying to work up the courage to say goodbye to Rowan. Aelin couldn’t decide if it would upset him, were she to just leave without waking him at all. She had a feeling that it would.

“Aelin?” Rowan croaks again from his place in bed, blinking blearily and trying to sit up too quickly. Rowan’s eyes focus on her, frowning at her figure in the dark. He asks, “What time is it?”

“A little after two,” she tells him morosely. Aelin moves to his side, perching on the end of the bed and brushing his hair out of his face, smoothing the wild ends back. Rowan leans heavily into her hand, eyes fluttering closed. Aelin doesn’t blame him; after only a few hours of sleep, neither of them is really ready to be awake.

“I thought your flight wasn’t until…” His brows pinch together as he tries to remember their discussion before they broke out the wine.

“Six,” Aelin supplies, fighting the fond smile threatening her lips. She thinks she’d like to kiss him again. “But I’ve been told I’m not allowed to get off the plane naked.”

“What?” Rowan asks, groaning a little. He’s definitely still a bit confused by his abrupt wakeup. Aelin feels immediately bad.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” she tells him, giving in and pecking a kiss to his lips. “But I’ve got to leave a little earlier than I thought.”

Rowan hums against her lips, wraps her hair around his fingers, and tugs Aelin down to him. She gets distracted quickly, leaning over him and darting her tongue into his mouth. It makes Rowan groan, a deep and low sound that ignites Aelin’s blood. It’s so hot when he does that.

His hands slide down her back to grip her by the thighs and pull her into his lap. Aelin adjusts so that she’s straddling his lap, moaning as he slips both sets of fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings. Rowan’s an ass man, apparently. Aelin is so not complaining.

She knows that she should get going soon, but kissing Rowan is just too enjoyable to pass up. Aelin gasps as his warm palms cup her ass, moving her body against his, and Aelin tugs at his hair, asking for more of that lovely friction. Rowan rolls them over, pinning her to the mattress in answer.

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” he murmurs into her skin, tongue and teeth, making their way down Aelin’s throat. She gasps in response, unable to come up with words as he presses his teeth into the crook of her neck.

Sleepy-sexy Rowan is hot as hell, Aelin discovers. She tucks the information away to save for later.

By the time Rowan’s lips return to hers, Aelin’s blood is lava. She clings to him, fingers in his hair and legs wrapped around his waist. She whines into his mouth as her phone rings, and Rowan takes the opportunity to tug on her lip with his teeth.

“Rowan,” she pants, trying to break free of his attention. He protests, trailing his lips down her jawline and making Aelin’s head spin. “I gotta answer that. It’s probably Ress.”

The growl that escapes Rowan is equally as hot as the rest of the moment. Yet, Aelin still can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes her. The jealousy kicked in fast with this one. Not that Aelin is complaining.

“They’re here to pick me up— _oh_.” Aelin sucks in a sharp breath; Rowan was definitely cheating, but Aelin wasn’t about to call him out on it. “Rowan—” Another adamant kiss. “ _Buzzard_.”

The nickname stops him. He shifts his weight to look into Aelin’s eyes, twin green flames burning back at her in the dark. Rowan’s face is filled with lust, his eyes heavy and his lips swollen from kissing her body. Aelin bites her lip, already regretting her next words; she loves and hates the way Rowan’s eyes track the motion.

“I gotta go,” she says softly. There’s no missing how his face falls in disappointment, and Rowan sighs deeply before pressing his face into her neck and breathing her in. Aelin chuckles, rubbing his back and kissing his cheek. “I know, I know.”

A whine escapes from the back of Rowan’s throat as he presses another kiss to Aelin’s lips. She’s smiling too much for the kiss to be very good, but she’s enjoying the soft moment just the same.

All too soon, Rowan rolls away from her, and Aelin is left breathless and cold. Again. Gods, what does a girl have to do to get laid around here?

“How long will you be gone for?” Rowan asks, staring at the ceiling. He sounds breathless and hoarse with arousal. Aelin could listen to him talk in that voice all day.

“Um.” Aelin wrinkles her nose in thought, gulping down air. It’s hard to think straight with Rowan so close; the warmth of his arm burns through the sleeve of her sweater. “Until Tuesday. I have some interview things that morning, and then I’m on a plane back here.”

Rowan rolls onto his side, frowning down at her. “And then?”

Aelin knows he’s asking about the tour. She matches his expression with a scowl of her own. “Dance rehearsals start in a few weeks. I’m already unhappy.”

He’s tugging her back into his side, fingers wrapping around her waist to bring her in. Aelin bites back a smile as Rowan leans in for another kiss. The phone rings just before their lips meet.

Rowan growls. “I hate him.”

“Ress is your favorite, and you know it,” Aelin teases, giving his shoulder a playful shove. She scoots across the bed on her belly, reaching for her phone and answering. “Hello?”

“Hey, we’re nearly there.” It is Ress, of course, sounding apologetic for waking her up. Little does he know. “Do you need us to come up and get your bags?”

“Nah,” Aelin tells him, trying not to laugh into the phone as Rowan’s body covers her own. He presses a heavy kiss to her neck, wrapping his arms around her from behind and holding her close. “I travel light.”

Ress snickers instead of telling Aelin that he doesn’t believe her. He’s a quiet sort of funny, but it works well with Aelin’s outgoing personality. He makes a good friend. It’s nice to have someone like him in her corner while she’s on the road.

“Text me when you’re out front,” she tells him, and they hang up. Aelin wiggles around in Rowan’s arms and flashes him a smile. “Where were we?”

They share slow kisses in the dark until she gets the text. Rowan tries to come with her, offering to carry her bags for her, but Aelin doesn’t want him to see her teary eyes when they load up the car. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go; it’s that she doesn’t want to leave them behind.

At the door, Rowan takes her by the shoulders. He looks her seriously in the eye and says, “I’m going to miss you, Ace.”

Aelin shifts her weight onto her tiptoes to kiss him, and Rowan responds just as eagerly. She pulls away quicker than she wants to, but Aelin doesn’t trust herself not to crawl back into bed with Rowan.

“Knock ‘em dead, Ace,” he tells her, kissing her forehead and giving her the gentlest of shoves, a light swat on the ass. “Remind everyone why you’re my favorite rock star.”

##  **Who’s Performing at the WMAs?**

Sadly, Aelin forgets until she boards the plane that Lorcan is hitching a ride to Varese. Initially, the idea was brilliant, giving her some company for the journey, but that was before Aelin only got three hours of sleep—before something happened between her and Rowan. The last thing she needs is his big nose in her business.

The sight of his arrogant smile is almost enough to send her excellent mood packing. Aelin glowers his way to discourage his snooping; she’s determined not to share anything with him about last night. For one, it’s none of the bastard’s business, and for two, it’s six in the morning. It’s far too early for gossip.

There was also the matter of discussing it with Rowan first. They hadn’t really gotten to that conversation. Hell, they hadn’t even had enough time to have sex—something that Aelin was very put out about.

Yet Lorcan sees right through it. His onyx eyes light up with promise at the sight of Aelin, likely preparing some shitheaded greeting. That awful smile of his only grows as he notices what Aelin is wearing. Essar was totally right. Aelin didn’t have any fresh clothes to wear to the airport, and so, she’d stolen one of Rowan’s old The Cadre shirts without permission. It’s blatantly not hers, far too big for her frame. She sighs internally; Aellin knows she’s failed to keep her mood change to herself.

“Did someone have a good _slumber_ party?” Lorcan asks through his grin. Aelin grimaces at the implication in his tone. Leave it to Lorcan to turn an innocent term of Thea’s into something dirty. The little girl‘s favorite thing was to ask for slumber parties right now—with her daycare friends, with her stuffed bear and pony, with Aelin even. The last one nearly made the blonde burst into tears.

Aelin flips him off, flopping into the nearest reclining seat and curling up under a blanket. She has every intention of sneaking in a nap just as soon as the plane takes off. Maybe sooner. Lorcan’s laughter bellows in the plane cabin, and Essar chuckles, perching on the chair beside Aelin’s with a clever smile of her own.

“But you’re going to tell me, right?” Essar asks quietly so that the drummer can’t hear them. “I’ve been dying to know what happened to make you hang up on me like that.”

Aelin’s lips form a smile against her will, but her eyes fall closed, thinking back to that moment in the kitchen with Rowan. It’s a perfect memory, one she hopes to make a few more of.

“You got it, Es,” she promises. “After rehearsals tonight, let’s order in and gossip.”

Essar claps her hands together excitedly. Lorcan interrupts right away, likely eavesdropping the whole time. “I want in. Ace, you can braid my hair and everything.”

“No,” the two women chorus at him.

“Why not?” he barks impatiently.

“You’re disqualified from sleepovers,” Aelin tells him without opening her eyes. “You keep banging all of my friends.”

Essar raises a brow in her ex’s direction, supporting Aelin’s accusations. Shit, Aelin totally didn’t think that one through, but the lack of sleep was making it hard for her to control her already wild tongue.

The drummer falls quiet after that, properly chastised. No small amount of guilt floods his face, and Lorcan turns to look out the window into the slowly rising dawn. Aelin’s bandmate did not do the best job when he broke up with Essar, but everyone managed to move past it. At least, Aelin thinks so. It’s been so long since then; Aelin certainly hopes so.

Belatedly, she hopes that Lorcan dating Elide won’t make things weird.

Pushing her worries aside, Aelin falls asleep pretty quickly, stirring only when the plane takes off and jostles her in her seat. Her team leaves her alone for most of the ride; everybody knows that Aelin is pretty useless at this hour of the day. She’ll be more agreeable to them all later after lunch and a bit more sleep.

As they prepare to land, Essar nudges her awake with a fond smile, and Aelin grumbles about everything and anything until she checks her messages.

**Have a good show,** her father texted while she was sleeping. Her mother’s message reads similarly. Knowing them, Evalin probably sent both messages, a mother-led act of solidarity. Aelin loves her dorky parents.

Lysandra sent about a dozen pictures of flower arrangements, asking which one Aelin thought was more elegant. **Your cousin is utterly useless, Aelin. Remind me why you suggested we date?**

**I didn’t,** Aelin contends. **You bonded over your mutual worries about my disastrous life choices, and then you started banging behind my back.** Aelin grins to herself, imagining Lys’s horrified expression when she receives the texts. She adds, **All of your Aedion Issues are wholly your own doing.**

Lysandra responds, lightning-fast. **You’re a cruel friend. I’m going to ask Thea to be my maid of honor.**

Aelin snorts, but she exits the thread, searching for another person in particular. It’s silly how she eyes her surroundings as the plane prepares for its descent. Aelin spots Lorcan, snoring behind his sunglasses. She doesn’t want anyone peeking over her shoulder.

**Wait.** Rowan’s message is timestamped shortly after their takeoff. **Why are you getting off the plane naked?**

Aelin bites back her laughter, not wanting to attract attention to herself. She thinks of the conversation she had with a sleepy Rowan, wondering just how much of their conversation he actually absorbed. She responds, **For the press, of course.**

Rowan doesn’t reply as quickly as Lysandra. Knowing his daily routines, the father is probably trying to wrangle his daughter into suitable clothing. Thea only wants to wear her tutu these days, which Aelin thinks is adorable, but apparently, it isn’t acceptable to wear the same thing to daycare every day.

Aelin spends most of the car ride to the hotel, fighting her urge to check her phone after each phantom buzz, and she frowns deeply when she gets out of the shower and still finds no answer. All she wants to do is talk to Rowan. Screw adult responsibilities.

The blonde is just about to leave her dressing room at the venue when her phone chirps at last. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly she whips it out to check her messages.

**Very funny,** Rowan responds. Another message comes shortly after, suggesting his concern for the sincerity of Aelin’s answer. **You didn’t actually get off the plane naked, did you?**

**Oh, how little you know me, Whitethorn,** she teases, typing out the message and sending it quickly.

**On the contrary, I know you just well enough.** Another swift response. **So?**

Aelin works hard to ignore the rush of fond warmth spreading along her skin as she imagines the face Rowan would make if they were together for this conversation—bothered but trying very hard not to show it. They’re always avoiding showing one another their hand.

She remembers waking up beside him this morning, getting to kiss him, and even better, having Rowan kiss her back. Hopefully, that was all over now. Aelin didn’t want to dance around her feelings for Rowan anymore. Gods, she doesn’t know how she left that apartment, much less his bed.

Aelin settles for a vague wink emoji in response, feeling playful. Ress peeks his nose into the door and sends her a rueful smile. Aelin beams at him, making the security guard blush handsomely under her attention. She’s in a spectacular mood.

At least, she is until she arrives at the stage and sees Ansel Briarcliff in her space.

The redhead is as stunning as ever, smiling and chatting with Elide and some other people. Aelin frowns when she notices that she’s the last person to arrive. Aelin is always late. She was late coming into this world, and she’d be late to her own funeral, too. But that doesn’t mean she wanted Ansel to arrive before her.

It’s petty and irrational of her, but she can’t help it.

Aelin scans the room for some company, finding Lorcan. The drummer looks a little miffed about having lost his girlfriend’s attention to someone else. Aelin grins, flopping into the seat beside him and nudging him in the ribs a little roughly. His scowl deepens.

“Oh,” he grumbles moodily at Aelin, making her smile grow. “ _Now_ you want to chat? You’re too late; I already got Whitethorn on the phone.”

Aelin feels a momentary panic. She doesn’t know what to say in response to that; she wishes she and Rowan had had more time to talk things over, but they’d kept getting sidetracked. It was still so new; everything happened less than twelve hours ago. Were they telling their friends? She decides to play it safe.

“And?” she asks, raising a brow in a challenge.

Lorcan huffs irritably. “He used some very unkind words to tell me to leave both him and you alone.”

Aelin throws her head back and cackles; Lor frowns, displeased by her amusement. He cuts her a cunning look, and her merriment dies in her throat. Aelin swallows.

“I’m not stupid, Ace,” he tells her seriously. “You stepped onto the plane this morning, and you were _glowing._ So, either you’re pregnant, or you’re fucking him finally, which— _Thank the gods._ ”

Lorcan looks thoughtful for a moment, ignoring Aelin’s outraged expression. “Maybe both,” he decides. “Thea’s about the right age for a sibling.”

“Oh,” Aelin says, dragging out the sound. She glares at him. “I’m so getting you back for that one, Salvaterre.”

Lorcan’s gaze dares Aelin to do her worse, and she smirks at him. She’s managed to fly under the radar so far, but making her presence known to the crew and to Ansel is totally worth it for this.

“Hey! Ellie!” She calls Lorcan's girlfriend, and he goes stiff as a board, waiting for whatever Aelin is about to do. The guitarist raises her eyebrows in response, eyes sliding between Aelin’s troublesome smile and Lorcan’s worried frown.

“Girls’ night at my place tonight,” Aelin tells her. “Ditch this idiot for the evening and come gossip with me.”

Lorcan sucks in a harsh breath and glares at Aelin. The blonde ignores her bandmate, waiting to see what Elide will say in response. The couple has been separated for a couple of weeks recently due to work and familial obligations. Aelin wouldn’t blame Elide if she wanted to spend the night in a comfy hotel bed with her boyfriend, but Aelin also wouldn’t mind ruining Lorcan’s evening.

“Done,” Elide says with a smile.

“B-but—” Lorcan protests, but his girlfriend cuts him off with a look.

“Whatever you did,” Elide says with a knowing look, shrugging her delicate shoulders and tossing her elaborate braid over her shoulder. “You deserve this.”

Aelin howls with laughter, feeling victorious. Lorcan glares at her, unhappy about being separated from his girlfriend so soon upon their reunion. Elide appears beside them a moment later, kissing Lor’s stern brow and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“There’s always after rehearsal,” she says vaguely, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Lorcan beams and Aelin chokes on air, hopping out of her seat and making a run for it. The couple laughs at her as she retreats. It’s unclear who’s won this round. Lorcan or Aelin.

Maybe it was Elide.

“Hey, girl!” Ansel greets her with false cheer. Aelin contemplates the pros and cons of having it out with the girl right here in front of everybody. Her smile is too big for someone who drugged Aelin and then danced the night away.

“Hey,” Aelin says flatly, hoping the message will come across. Ansel’s face falls, and her mahogany eyes look disappointed. Whatever. Aelin refuses to let Ansel’s feelings make her feel bad.

She aims a smile at the crew instead. “Okay, then! Who’s ready for a soundcheck?”

##  **Lorcan Salvaterre Shares Rehearsal Pic.**

Back in the hotel, Aelin dials Rowan without thinking. This is her brief window of opportunity to call him and hear his voice without an audience. She’s not embarrassed about whatever this is that has finally happened between them, but Aelin also isn’t ready to share yet.

The past has taught her how fickle these kinds of things are in her world, how difficult it can be to maintain any sort of relationship while participating in the game that is the entertainment industry. Romantic ones are just that much harder.

“Hey,” Rowan greets breathlessly, and Aelin smiles. Each and every one of her worries vanishes as she snuggles into her bed and listens to his breathing. She forgets to even respond.

Rowan sounds amused by it, though. “That bad, huh?”

“I hate having to work with her,” Aelin admits childishly. “And I hate that I hate it because it’s ruining something that I totally love to do.”

Performing. Aelin loves to perform, but now she remembered all of the reasons she told Nox that she didn’t like duets. Aelin had forgotten to include betrayal in the form of drugged liquor then, but it was definitely on the list going forward.

Rowan sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, Ace. I wish I could help; I wish I were there.”

“You and me both,” Aelin says, turning her tone suggestive at the last second. The opportunity to make Rowan flustered is too appealing. “I’m free for the whole afternoon.”

The man on the other end of the line coughs, and Aelin’s smile grows. It’s far too easy to set him on edge. Ever since their exchange at Thea’s birthday party, Aelin’s been all about teasing him. There’s something very satisfactory in getting stoic Rowan Whitethorn to blush.

Delicately, he changes the subject. “Thea wore real pants to daycare today,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. “Let the record show that I’m not a total failure of a parent.”

Aelin bites back her smile, reading his tone. “She wore real pants, but did she also have her tutu on over them?”

“Yes,” he admits after being silent for a little too long. Rowan grumbles, “Those daycare moms are just so _mean_ , Aelin.”

The woman snickers while imagining the quiet fear in Rowan’s eyes. Aelin can’t say she blames him; she’s pretty sure she’d be afraid of those fancy Doranelle mothers, too. She was raised by one after all.

“Do you want me to beat them up for you?” She teases. “I can totally throw down with some Doranelle Rich and Elite for you and Thea.” Rowan huffs a breath, but he doesn’t tell her no.

“Like, I’m doing my best here, you know?” The rant begins, quick and unexpected. It makes Aelin sit up a little straighter in her bed and pay attention. Rowan doesn’t open up a lot like this, so it must be really bothering him. “If my perfectly healthy and well-loved for kid wants to wear her tutu over her polka-dotted leggings then—Well, at least she’s not fucking naked.”

“Ro,” Aelin says softly. “Did something happen?”

The father is quiet for a while, weighing his words. Aelin’s heartbeat fills the silence, worried for him. She wishes he’d told her about this before, wishes she were with him to have this conversation instead.

“No,” he says, equally soft. “I just… It’s coming up soon, you know?” Rowan waits for Aelin to connect the dots, but she’s at a loss. A soft sigh. “Our would-be anniversary.”

Aelin sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

She doesn’t know what to say in response to that. She’d nearly forgotten all about it, but then again, Rowan and Lyria’s wedding anniversary was something Aelin worked very hard to forget about in the first place. Rowan was right. The date was encroaching, which meant—

“I know it’s still a couple of months away, but it’s almost been a year.” Rowan sounds so upset that it makes Aelin’s heart ache. She definitely hates that Rowan kept this from her, even though she understands why he would do it. “Even if she hadn’t—” He chokes on his words. “It’s somehow worse.”

Aelin waits. She can feel that Rowan isn’t finished yet, and Aelin doesn’t want to interrupt him, make him decide to hold the rest back. He sighs deeply.

“It’s just… Am I letting Thea down? Because sometimes I give in and let her wear her princess gown to daycare?”

“Rowan,” Aelin breathes his name ever so gently. “No, _Ro_ —” Aelin has the sudden urge to call him baby, but she resists, fearing it's too much, too soon. “You’re a great father—an amazing one. Don’t let those judgemental bitches get to you.”

Aelin waits, listening to his breathing and waiting out Rowan’s internal battle. He’s always so hard on himself, so quick to take on all of the blame. Aelin wishes he’d lift himself up as much as he does her, as he does their friends.

“Also,” Aelin continues, needing to fill the silence and sway him further. “Thea looks fucking rad in that tutu, so if they have a problem with it, they can all just suck my fucking dick.”

Rowan finally cracks, caving into that rare laugh of his. Aelin smiles as she listens to it, making a mental note to spoil Rowan with compliments in the near future; he’ll be needing them, but he’ll never say as much.

“They’ll never even know what hit them,” he adds, a smile in his voice. Rowan sighs, and Aelin can hear the tension leaving him. It eases a little bit of her own. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Perish,” Aelin says deadpan. “And then I’ll have to take Thea under my wing and turn her into one of my backup dancers.” Rowan scoffs. “Actually, that sounds like a brilliant idea. I take it all back. How dare you let your kid wear a freaking tutu. Unacceptable. Irresponsible.” She pauses. “Have you perished yet?”

Aelin can practically see Rowan’s exasperated grin. He huffs a laugh before saying, “Thank you, Aelin. You’re my best friend.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Photo,** _ **Girl’s Night!**_


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song at the end of this fic is LIke Gold by Vance Joy (and recommended by @shyvioletcat). I couldn’t have found a better song to fit the situation if I tried. I didn’t write them actually singing the song, so I don’t include the lyrics in the chapter, but you all should definitely go listen to it. 
> 
> I’d like to dedicate all typos to the allergy meds.

##  **Ansel Briarcliff Streams of WMA Dressing Room.**

Aelin falls asleep while still on the phone with Rowan. When her alarm wakes her up later, jolting her out of her sweet dreams and into reality, Rowan is no longer on the line, but there’s a text waiting for her from him, telling Aelin to enjoy her nap. She feels very little shame in sending him a picture of her pillow-creased face.

Her next scheduled rehearsal is just as grueling as the last. It’s what she gets for putting everything off until the last twenty-four hours, but Aelin also has an album to release tonight. While she practices in the theatre, previously recorded interviews are airing; video of Aelin smiling, and talking up her music. None of it is exactly a lie; she’s proud of her music and excited to share it with her fans.

But Aelin feels as if she’s lying by omission, leaving out the fact that negotiations with her current record label have fallen through. She hasn’t told anyone but her Cadre family and her actual family. Aelin doesn’t know what’s going to happen when the news finally breaks—after she’s fulfilled the last bit of her contract, of course. Selling her last album with Adarlan Records.

Ansel tries repeatedly to strike up a casual conversation with Aelin, but the blonde manages to skillfully avoid any invitation to spend any time together. She never thought that those haughty women from her teen years would have taught her anything useful, but Aelin’s life is just full of surprises.

 **Beautiful** is the text waiting for her after the last run-through of the evening.

Rowan’s text makes her giddy enough that Aelin doesn’t even have anything to say in response. She’s just… happy. Seeing his name, reading his compliments. It all reminds her of the morning she had just this morning, though it feels like a lifetime ago. Aelin decides to respond with another picture; she’s all glammed up in her performance makeup, all overly harsh contouring and eyebrows strong enough to be seen in the back row of the audience.

Aelin makes her ugliest face, only made worse by the sweat running down her face, and sends it. **How about now?**

In truth, Aelin wouldn’t mind squeezing in one last run, but there’s someone else waiting for their chance to use the stage. Aelin could always pull strings and run over time—she certainly has enough sway in the industry that no one would say anything to her—but she’s a professional.

She’s too busy flirting to notice when the next talent arrives.

“Same old Aelin.” Their voice startles Aelin, and she yelps out loud, jumping with surprise. Her ex-boyfriend laughs openly at her expense. The sound is as rich as ever, forever amused with scaring her. It’s an old game Sam and the Cadre used to play: who could scare Aelin the most.

“Shit,” Aelin swears at him, earning another laugh.

Sam’s smile is just as perfect as Aelin remembers, but there’s a little something brittle about the one he aims her way. It’s been ages since Aelin last spoke with the man in front of her—four years. It’s been nearly _four years_. Since that ill-fated conversation in her living room about Rowan. Since Sam packed up his guitar and left her and Doranelle behind. It’s weird to look at someone Aelin used to wake up with every day and feel next to nothing.

That’s not true. Guilt. Aelin definitely feels guilt, though.

“Causing trouble?” He asks innocently.

“I could say the same for you,” Aelin retorts, but the jab holds no heat. Seeing Sam has knocked her off balance, more than she already was with Ansel hovering in her vicinity. Aelin definitely wasn’t expecting to see him.

Generally, the powers that be always try to keep exes and frenemies and the like apart from one another, quietly without having to be asked. Aelin will need to be careful; it would seem that the producers for this award show were looking to stir up some drama to raise the viewer count. Aelin manages to get herself into enough shit on her own; she doesn’t need any help in the matter.

A brief and excruciating silence follows. Aelin can’t say she blames them. The last time she and Sam were in a room together, he asked her if she loved Rowan. And Aelin said nothing, choosing instead to remain silent and stare at her feet while he packed his things and left. After all this time, what does Aelin say to the man whose heart she used and abused? The heart she broke so carelessly trying to distract her own?

Sam blinds her with another smile, gesturing awkwardly in the air with the guitar hanging from one shoulder. They both laugh a little. “I guess I should probably get to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” Aelin coughs, feeling strange in her own skin. She steps aside to let him have the stage, but Sam stops her before she can make her retreat.

“Ace.” Her nickname is a familiar sound from his lips, and Aelin’s chest aches with the memory that they used to be friends, even as she drooled all over Sam for his smile and that laugh of his. Aelin turns reluctantly to face him, panic and curiosity battling it out in her lungs.

“We should catch up—before you jet set to some other part of the globe,” Sam says, shyly. “I know a good place to get some coffee.”

Aelin knows her smile is silly; she lets out a shaky breath and nods his way. Gods, this is weird as fuck. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Sam beams and his brown eyes sparkle with familiar mischief. “I’ll have my people call your people.”

All of the tension in the room evaporates. Aelin barks a laugh and flips him off. “Just text me, asshole.”

Sam’s laughter chases her from the stage.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Photo of WMA Rehearsal.**

The sight that greets Aelin at her dressing room is an unwelcome one. Ansel leans against the door, blocking her path, and ensuring trouble. When the redhead spots Aelin, she stands up straight, wearing a look of determination that triggers all of Aelin’s warning bells. She’s not too proud to hide her hesitation, pausing her steps, and considering the pros and cons of running away from the confrontation at hand. Aelin’s done rather well at avoiding Ansel outside of rehearsals, and she’d really hoped to keep up the trend.

“I just want to clear the air—about that night at The Rift,” Ansel says.

Aelin’s voice has never been so quiet. “What about it?”

She watches the other woman grimace; it suggests to Aelin that the memory of that night at the club brings Ansel just as much pain as it does her. The thought turns Aelin’s vision blurry. Red. How dare _Ansel_ feel bad for what happened? How dare she come to apologize or make excuses or rub it in or whatever the fuck she was planning on doing? She _drugged_ Aelin, and if she didn’t do it, Ansel was at least compliant.

Aelin doesn’t even register grabbing Ansel by her costume, pinning the taller woman to the wall. The navy sequins on Ansel’s costume bite into Aelin’s palm, but the blonde doesn’t let go, snarling, “Are you here to apologize?”

Everything goes very quiet. Aelin can see Brullo and Ress in the peripherals of her vision, hovering and looking unsure as to what to do. They’re not here to protect other people from Aelin, quite the opposite in fact. Ansel’s face goes slack with surprise, but when her eyes harden with cleverness, Aelin knows she’s picked right.

“Well?” Aelin growls. To her credit, Ansel juts her chin out in defiance, refusing to look afraid. Aelin hates how it makes her feel respect for Ansel. It’d be easier to forget all of the bonding and good times and just hate her. “Spit it out.”

It’s almost unbearable how long Ansel waits to answer. “Arobynn said you asked for it.”

Aelin releases the woman in surprise, but she recovers quickly and shoves Ansel back against the wall again, sneering. “So, what? You just agreed to fucking drug me?”

“He didn’t—”

Fury pushes Aelin to cut her off. She leans in so close to Ansel that their noses brush. A lover’s embrace. “If you ever pull some shit like that again—If I even so much as catch a whiff of a rumor,” Aelin hisses. She can feel the many eyes watching them, and her voice fills with lethal promise. “I will fucking _destroy_ you. Got it?”

Ansel Briar smiles, showing off her sharp canines. “Yes, ma’am.”

Aelin doesn’t release her immediately, choosing to hold Ansel’s stare for just a little longer. This is going to be all over the papers in the morning, but for right now, Aelin couldn’t give a shit. She waits until Ansel grows unbearably uncomfortable, and then she releases her.

“Awesome,” Aelin says in a falsely cheerful voice. “Now get the fuck out of my face.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Photo, _Girl’s Night!_**

“And then what happened?” Elide asks with a sly smile that she doesn’t bother hiding from Aelin. Essar grins widely at the other woman, clearly agreeing with the question.

Aelin’s heart fills with warmth at the sight of them. She’s happy to have discovered that Lorcan is not a point of animosity between her two friends; rather, the man’s provided something to bond over. Aelin can’t wait to see the drummer’s mortified expression when Elide and Essar start to tease him in unison.

She wants to feel a little bad for turning the two of them against Lorcan, but Aelin also thinks that the bastard deserves it. At least a little bit.

Aelin shrugs vaguely at the gossip mongers. They’ve drooled throughout Aelin’s retelling of Rowan finally making a move. Yet, the women don’t seem satisfied with Aelin’s promise that nothing more happened between them.

“We went to sleep,” she tells them and takes a sip of her beer. Essar frowns deeply at that, and Elide rolls her eyes.

“Idiots,” the small brunette says, sounding awfully like her boyfriend. “You two just need to bang, so we can throw you a wedding already.”

Aelin chokes on her beer. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, don’t play naive, Aelin,” Essar scolds her. Her smile promises little mercy. Apparently, Aelin’s friends have plans to gang up on her first; she regrets her decision to bring Essar and Elide together. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Aelin gapes at them, tears pricking her eyes as she struggles to breath. Elide sighs, shooting the singer an exasperated look and patting her on the back. She says, “Everyone’s been waiting _years_ for this to finally happen. We’re all ready for the fucking rave that your wedding will be; we’ve earned it.”

“I’m not getting married,” Aelin insists. She prays the blush threatening her isn’t too obvious. “Rowan and I—it was, like, a day ago. Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

Aelin’s personal phone rings, and her friends break into laughter. She reaches for her phone, recognizing Rowan’s smiling face and Thea’s rare imperious frown; the little girl did not want to pose for the photo at the time. Not enough people have witnessed the little girl’s serious side; Thea is more like her father than anyone realizes.

“We’re going to go find more to drink,” Essar sing-songs, linking arms with Elide and guiding the guitarist out of the room. Aelin glares at their retreating figures. She wouldn’t put it past them to wait outside the door and listen to her conversation.

Rowan looks a little worn when Aelin answers the video call, but he smiles at the sight of her. It’s late for both of them, and it’s only Aelin’s many naps that have managed to keep her awake so long. She returns his smile, feeling the crappiness of the long day fall off her shoulders at last; she’s happy to see his face, even if it’s only by video.

“Hey,” he breathes the word, suddenly looking shy.

Aelin’s overcome with fondness for the fool; like he has any reason to be shy when it comes to her. “Hey, yourself.”

Rowan can read her so easily. It’s no surprise how he looks over her face and frowns. “How’re you?”

The real question is apparent. _What’s wrong?_

Aelin bites her lip, mulling over her words. She doesn’t want to sour the mood so quickly, but Rowan is the person that she tells everything too. And she’d rather he find out about her fighting Ansel from her directly than through some misleading news source.

She releases a heavy sigh, letting her eyes fall closed. “I may or may not have done something very, very stupid.”

Alarm fills Rowan’s eyes. He’s long since learned that such is Aelin’s way of confessing to something before being found out. “How stupid was it?”

“Rude!” she tells him. Though, Aelin laughs at his question. “Um, I… spoke with Ansel.”

“And how did that go?” Rowan’s voice is careful.

“Do you remember that time I punched the paparazzi?” Aelin deflects, hedging her way towards a real answer. Rowan bites his lip in thought. They all remember the time that Aelin hit the photographer for asking her family questions about her sex life in public. It’s a wonder the guy got off so easily. The look in Rowan’s eye says he agrees.

“Yeah, so.” Aelin’s shame rushes through her. After the fact, she realizes how brash of a decision she’d made, jumping Ansel like that. “I may or may not have assaulted my co-artist the night before our big performance.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Aelin asks. “That’s it? Oh?”

Rowan looks thoughtful. “I mean, without all of the details you’re keeping from me, I don’t know how bad it really was, but you’re not calling me from jail, so there’s a plus.” Rowan smiles wryly. “But the bitch deserved it.”

Aelin still feels uneasy. “What? You don’t have a lecture for me about behaving myself?”

“You’re not boring enough to behave yourself, Ae,” Rowan says with a rueful smile. “The day you stop getting yourself into trouble is the day you die. So, I’m happy to hear you’re still a disaster.”

“Wow,” Aelin replies flatly. “No wonder you’ve been single for so long.”

Rowan’s smile is feral. “We’ll see about that.”

A thrill runs through her, and Aelin flushes at his words. She doesn’t know what to say to him in response, her cleverness failing her in this time of need. It should be so weird to be flirting with Rowan like this, blatantly and forward and heated, especially after years of friendship, and yet, it feels so natural. It feels like them.

They stare at each other’s funny expressions until a burst of raucous laughter sounds from the next room. Rowan arches a brow in question. Aelin grins. It sounds as if the others found their drinks.

“Are you having a party without me, Ace?” he asks.

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Don’t act jealous. You hate parties.”

“I do,” he agrees. Rowan asks her to explain with his eyes alone.

“I’m having a girl’s night,” Aelin tells him, a sparkle in her eye. “I’m telling Elide and Essar all about how you ran away from me.”

Rowan’s face falls. “You wouldn’t.”

“I already did.” Aelin shrugs, fighting another smile. Rowan frowns at her, and she can feel the heat of his glare through the camera. Aelin bites her lip and sends him a look. “I also told them that you’re an okay kisser.”

The backhanded compliment seems to appease the man. Aelin struggles to control her laughter as Rowan’s shoulders lift, pleased with himself. His eyes grow dark, and Aelin waits to hear whatever clever words he’s preparing. Before Rowan can get them out, though, the door flies open. Elide and Essar charge the room, flopping onto the bed and stealing the phone.

“H-hey!” Aelin protests.

Elide aims the camera at her and Essar, smiling like the devil. “You’ll have to save the phone sex for later, Whitethorn,” she says in that sharp way of hers. “Aelin has to come dance with us now.”

“That’s disappointing,” Rowan says dryly. Aelin can easily imagine his long-suffering expression; it’s a signature of his. “I love phone sex.”

Aelin sucks in a quick breath while the other women cackle. Essar slips the phone from Elide’s hands and waves goodbye to the man, but she’s kind enough to aim the phone in Aelin’s direction before hanging up. “Say goodbye, Ae. You’ll see him soon enough.”

Rowan’s smile is soft and fond as Aelin wiggles her fingers at him.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she tells him softly.

Rowan sighs his own goodbye in response. Elide and Essar drag Aelin out of her bed before she can mourn the loss of his face on her phone. They tease Aelin about her heart eyes and congratulate her on her happiness in the same breath that they challenge her to a dance-off.

They’re her friends, and Aelin is thankful for them every day, but especially on days such as the one she’s just endured. Because Aelin is not naive enough to expect that nothing will come of her confrontation with Ansel; she knows and expects it. Aelin just doesn’t know what it will be. How it will play out.

Or, most importantly, when.

##  **WMAs Live Tonight at 8!**

The day of a red carpet event is always a little weird, Aelin finds.

For starters she starts the big day laying around in bed with two other women, nursing a mild hangover and texting with Rowan about nothing and everything. Essar orders them breakfast in bed, and the three of them sit around the hotel suite in various stages of dress, nibbling on toast and eggs and drinking lots of coffee.

Aelin is supposed to meet Sam for more coffee later, too. She’s nervous to see him again, dreading it even, but she’s also excited to get to spend some time with him. Those few months on the Hell of A Night tour were some of her favorites with The Cadre, even with as messy as her relationship was with Rowan.

It’s the conversation that’s going to follow spending time with Sam that makes her anxious. It’s a necessary evil, and Aelin knows that it will bring them both some overdue closure for this mess of a relationship, but it’s messy. And she’s uncertain.

Aelin doesn’t know what she should tell Rowan or if she should tell him anything at all. She doesn’t have any intention to hide her meeting with Sam, but she’s also not sure if it’s the kind of thing one just mentions. Aelin suspects it might be important to Rowan, though. He never liked Sam, but that wasn’t exactly Sam’s fault.

She barely muffles her sigh at the internal struggle. Boys.

“Right,” Elide says as she finishes another cup of coffee. “I’m going to go back to my hotel room and jump my boyfriend’s bones now.”

Aelin gags. “Shit, Elide.”

“What?” The guitarist asks innocently. “I’m sorry; did I hurt your delicate sensibilities?” Aelin flips her off, and Elide smirks. Her gaze lands on Essar, and for the briefest moments, her arrogant expression falters. “Fuck. Sorry. That’s—weird.”

Essar sends the other woman a small smile, forever full of grace. “It’s fine. Enjoy your morning.”

Elide makes a face before making her exit at a loss of anything else smart to say. Aelin eyes her assistant closely; Essar notices quickly enough and raises a brow in question.

“What? It _is_ fine.” She sips her coffee thoughtfully. “I can either accept what’s what, or I can quit my job.” Essar shoots Aelin a challenging expression. “Would you like for me to quit my job?”

“Not at all,” Aelin swears. “I plan on taking you to the grave with me.” At that, Essar breaks into laughter. Aelin continues seriously. “I’d be lost without you, Es. Just say the word, and I will happily grovel to keep you.”

Essar doesn’t say anything else, but Aelin does notice the pleased little smile that dances on her assistant’s face as they finish their breakfast. Aelin meant it, though. She would gladly beg to keep Essar around.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Seen Out with Ex Sam Cortland.**

Ress and Brullo follow her downstairs to the hotel lobby a few hours later. Sam waits for her downstairs, dressed for adventure in a baseball cap and a pair of dark shades. It’s funny, really, the lengths celebrities go to so they can have a modicum of privacy. To take a walk and get a cup of coffee. Aelin wears the shades to protect herself from the flashing lights, but she gave up flying beneath the radar years ago.

Aelin’s ex-boyfriend takes one look at her and has the nerve to laugh. She wastes little time in jabbing Sam in the arm, quick and hard, falling back into their familiar old patterns easily. He hisses in pain, glaring at her. Aelin smirks at him, feeling satisfied with herself.

“You’re so hungover,” Sam retaliates mercilessly. He rubs a hand over the hurt spot on his arm and smiles at her slyly. “Have a little too much fun at girl’s night?”

Aelin raises her fist again in warning; Sam is quick to hold his hands up in surrender. Even Brullo chuckles at them good-naturedly. She sighs.

“How’d you know?” Aelin grumbles. “That I was hungover?”

She thought she’d done a good job of hiding the evidence; Aelin certainly spent enough time in the mirror, covering up the evidence of her jetlag and drinking. Sam shoots her a lazy smile, but it turns a little cynical.

He sighs away the bitterness before he speaks. “I’ve spent my fair share of time nursing a hungover Aelin back to health,” he remarks without hostility. “I remember all of the signs, but I also know the cure, too.”

Forgotten affection washes over Aelin, and once more she’s reminded of how terribly she treated Sam Cortland. He must see the feelings on her face because he elbows her gently and adds, “C’mon. There’s a place a couple of blocks away with some decent coffee—and the best burger I’ve yet to find in Varese.”

Aelin shoots him a shaky smile. “Same old Sam,” she teases lightly. “Always sneaking around whatever city and finding the best food.”

“You know it!” Sam chirps, throwing an arm over Aelin’s shoulder and leading her away. “Let’s get you patched up, shall we?”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Lunch Selfie.**

She’s in the middle of the best nap of her life when someone pounces on her. Aelin jolts away, fighting her attacker on instinct. Peals of laughter fill the room, dragging her back into consciousness, and Aelin glares at Asterin Blackbeak’s smiling, mischievous face.

“Do you mind?” Aelin growls. The other blonde laughs loudly.

“Man,” Asterin calls out. “The princess is _sleeping_.”

Manon Blackbeak swings the door open lazily, smirking at her cousin straddling Aelin in bed. The singer huffs, already exhausted by the chaos about to ensue. The Blackbeak cousins were nothing but trouble. Aelin usually enjoyed that about them, but they were far too loud for her headache.

“Get up, Galathynius,” Manon barks, unloading her supplies right onto the bed. “I have work to do, and you need to take a shower. You look like shit.”

Aelin makes an offended sound. The stylist isn’t wrong, though, so Aelin obliges, getting up and heading for the ensuite. Her lunch with Sam was both healing and hurtful, but what was done was done. Maybe one day they might be friends. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on her part.

“Your phone is blowing up,” Asterin informs Aelin when she returns, a sparkle of trouble shining in the blonde’s eyes. Asterin and Manon have probably already tried to check her messages for her; there’s no telling if they were successful or not.

“Let’s see how much trouble I’m in,” Aelin tells them, wasting little time in retrieving her phone and checking it.

She’s waiting on Nesryn to call her with the news that the story has broken. Aelin could already picture the headlines, painting her as a bully and beginning the rumors of a feud. She supposes that the last bit isn’t wrong; Aelin did threaten to destroy Ansel. That certainly sounds like a feud.

But Nesryn hasn’t called yet. There is a message from Rowan, though.

 **Thea is very excited for the show tonight,** his message reads when she checks it. Asterin begins to dry her hair, and Manon wastes no time tackling Aelin’s face, preparing it for the heavy makeup it’s about to suffer through.

Aelin smiles. **You think she’ll figure it out? Finally?**

 **There’s only one way to find out,** Rowan replies, making her smile. She’s nervous to perform while Rowan and Thea are watching her, but she’s excited, too. Aelin loves very little as much as she loves to perform. It’s been too long.

She spends the remainder of the afternoon waiting patiently as the Blackbeak cousins work diligently to prepare her for the red carpet. This is Aelin’s favorite part about such an event; she loves all of the primping and spoiling. Aelin’s never bothered to hide the fact that she’s a creature of comfort.

No, it’s walking the red carpet that leaves Aelin with anxiety. She doesn’t like the spectacle of it as much as she once did. There have been so many occasions where interviewers belittle her or tried to trick her into admitting something that either wasn’t true or was none of their business. Aelin hates this necessary evil of the entertainment business, but it makes for easy and good publicity, assuming she doesn’t end up on a Worst Dressed list. There’s no worrying about that, though; Manon is very good at what she does.

“Tell that boy that I need your hands,” Manon orders, preparing to fix her nails. Aelin grimaces at the thought of her chipped nail polish. Guitar is not kind to her manicures. “You can talk to him later.”

Aelin relays the message with regret, but Rowan is nothing if not patient.

 **I’ll leave you to it then,** Rowan says in response. **Don’t forget to pee before they sew you in.**

Aelin growls at the last jab, but he’s not wrong. She’s always needed about a thousand bathroom breaks before doing any sort of live show or interview. The red carpet is no different. The thought makes her feel the need, and she growls.

“Fucking asshole,” she grumbles, throwing her phone onto the bed and marching towards the bathroom. Manon sends an unimpressed look after her, but Asterin checks the phone, reading it and cackling, before showing her cousin the message.

##  **Manon Blackbeak: the Stylist of Aelin Galathynius.**

When it’s all said and done, Aelin takes a moment to look at herself in the mirror. The look of the night is a black jumpsuit cut in the shape of a tuxedo with slim-cut legs and leather lapels to die for. Manon talked her out of the matching bra top for the wow factor. The stylist has yet to lead Aelin wrong.

“Well? What do you ladies think?” she asks, smiling and turning around to show off their finished product. Essar happily snaps a few photos of Aelin, while the cousins take in her appearance, assessing her like a battle map.

After a long stretch of silence, Asterin cheers, clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. However, Manon lets out a long, heavy sigh, and the room goes still, the attention turning to the platinum blonde in question. Aelin’s confidence falters.

“Women in suits are just so hot,” Manon complains in an uncharacteristic display of openness. She turns her golden gaze on Aelin. “I cannot _believe_ that you’re straight. It’s such a waste.”

“I’m sorry,” Aelin apologizes sincerely. Then her brain catches up. “Wait a sec. Manon, did you just hit on me?”

Manon rolls her eyes, an expression that says _You wish_. Asterin interrupts them with an evil smile. “Easy there, Manon. I don’t think your pretty new toy would like that. The one with—” She gestures at her own head in emphasis. “—the _hair_.”

Aelin gasps in surprise, somehow knowing exactly who they’re talking about. “Dorian!?”

“Hey. Aren’t you running behind schedule?” Manon challenges Aelin without looking away from Asterin. The stylist’s cousin smiles at Manon, amused with her meddling; she’s perhaps the only one not afraid of Manon Blackbeak.

Essar cracks a smile at that. “She’s not wrong, you know.”

“You’re dating _Dorian_!” Aelin repeats, surprise all over her face. A hand wraps around her arm and gently removes her from her bedroom, but Aelin only has eyes for the woman pretending not to hear her. “Details! Now!”

Manon looks unimpressed by Aelin’s demands. “Go show off my outfit before you wrinkle it, Galathynius. Essar is under strict orders not to let you sit down until you do.”

The door closes behind them before Aelin can protest.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Walks the WMA Red Carpet.**

The band gathers in a space dedicated to them while Aelin walks the red carpet. She ditches the tux as soon as she’s able, exchanging it for a pair of comfortable leggings and Rowan’s t-shirt. Elide’s eyes shine with amusement at the sight of it, but the guitarist says nothing in favor of leading everyone through another song.

“How about Under the Bridge?” the guitarist asks Aelin, abbreviating the name of her old song. The singer nods in agreement, and the other band members fiddle with the notes.

“Can I scream this time?” Lorcan asks with an arrogant smile. He knocks his drumsticks together, tapping out a rhythm that only he knows. “It’ll make the song a thousand times better. Trust me.”

“Asshole,” Aelin spits his way. The drummer grins, pleased with himself, but it does give Aelin an idea. She tucks it away for later use, and they start the song.

A familiar face appears at the door as they enter the last chorus of the song. Aelin waves at him in an invitation, and Sam Cortland hesitantly enters the room, smiling and listening to the music. They’ve attracted a few people, and for the most part, Aelin hasn’t minded.

“I heard there was a jam session,” Sam tells her as the song comes to a close. The look in his eyes tells Aelin that he’ll leave if it’s not okay for him to be there. Aelin shoots him what she hopes is an encouraging smile, praying it will chase away the weirdness.

Yet, Lorcan is there to save the day. “Grab a guitar, kid! El could use help.”

Elide’s expression promises retribution for her boyfriend’s comments. The room breaks into laughter and even Lorcan grins like he’s just gotten away with something. Sometimes, it seems as if the man lives with the sole purpose to make Elide yell at him. To each their own, Aelin guesses.

Someone hands Sam a guitar, and he looks to Aelin for permission. She grins slyly, powering through the awkwardness. “Well, kid,” she says, lowering her voice in an attempt to sound like Lorcan. “You pick the next song.”

##  **Sam Cortland Warms Up with Aelin Galathynius, Sings _Like Gold._**

**_*_ **


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 7000 words long—just an FYI for anyone looking for a quick read. Ha, I almost cut it in half... but I figured you all might revolt if I ended it where I was going to! Enjoy it! It’s a good one if I do say so myself.

##  **Watch Aelin Galathynius and Ansel Briarcliff Open the Wendlyn Music Awards.**

Despite all of the drama, Aelin does manage to enjoy herself at the WMAs. She indulges in a few cocktails and parties with her friends—Lorcan, who still manages to have some semblance of celebrity status from the band days, and Sam, who finds himself as nothing more than a pawn in a foul game.

The trio takes it in stride, though. They spend the duration of the show making a game out of switching seats and trumping the producers’ every attempt to stir up rumors about Sam and Aelin. Lorcan sits strategically between the former couple and makes a show out of his friendship with Sam, while Aelin ignores the aggravated looks of the cameramen. She tries not to blame them; after all, they’re just doing their jobs.

Still… it really pissed her off.

Everyone knows what they’re doing. Placing Aelin with Sam is nothing more than an attempt to profit off of the Sam and Aelin sighting this morning—the Livestream during warmups, too. It’s the sort of story that would sell well: old flames reunited. But neither Aelin nor Sam is very interested in participating.

“You should’ve seen the PA, Ace,” Lorcan tells her through his laughter one afternoon, curled up in her living room. Elide smiles down at him from where she’s perched on his armrest. It’s nothing more than a lazy afternoon with friends. Aelin is happy to entertain them and the others on their way.

A day with friends; it’s way overdue.

Aelin works hard to sell the lie that she isn’t dying for Rowan to appear at long last. Though, she’s pretty sure she’s failing at it. It’s no secret that the pair have yet to see each other. Not since before the WMAs, though, it isn’t for lack of effort.

Adulthood sucks, Aelin has decided.

“She was _pissed_.” Lorcan grins, continuing his story. “I thought they were going to kick me out for sure.”

Aelin scoffs, her anger returning with the memories. “They could’ve kicked me out, but they were too busy trying to profit from my miserable personal life.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Elide says, and Lorcan smiles at the brunette like she’s the best damn thing he’s ever seen.

The front door opens, and Fleetfoot yips, scrambling away from the sitting area and bounding to the front door to greet their guests. Based on the dog's reaction, Aelin guesses it must be Rowan and Thea. The dog is never happier to see someone than she is that little girl. Fleetfoot could care less about Rowan, except that his presence usually means Thea is nearby.

Aelin’s heart skips a beat at the sound of Thea’s giggles and Rowan’s grumbling. She’s very excited to see both of them—equal parts nervous, too. She pretends not to notice the knowing look Lorcan shoots her way as they wait for the pair. Aelin doesn’t like Lor. She needs a new drummer.

“It was nice to see the kid, though,” Lorcan continues thoughtfully. “Hey! You should bring him with us for the next tour.”

“Bring who on tour?” Rowan asks, walking carefully between Thea and Fleetfoot. The pair appear to be moments away from tackling one another, and the weary father looks torn between intervening or just giving up and letting chaos ensue.

“Sam,” Lorcan says because he’s an idiot. Oblivious, he turns to Aelin, pushing the matter. “You’re still looking for an opener for the hometown stretch, right? Why not, Sam?”

“It was supposed to be Ansel,” Aelin says irritably. “But, I scrapped that plan for obvious reasons.” She looks thoughtful, feeling Rowan’s eyes watching her. She’s not brave enough to look his way and judge his opinion on the matter.

But Rowan claims the seat beside her on the couch, and Aelin looks toward him anyway, smiling a greeting. The man’s expression is carefully neutral, of course, which Aelin both appreciates and hates. It’s so hard to tell what Rowan’s thoughts are sometimes—nearly all of the time.

“I was trying to blackmail Cassian into doing it.” Aelin gently guides the conversation away from Sam and into safer waters. “But, the bastard is shameless.”

“Red word!” Thea says and points an accusing finger towards her. Aelin looks to the little girl in alarm, and then to Rowan, a question in her eyes.

The father smirks at last. “You used a red word—a _bad_ word.” His green eyes sparkle with mischief as he looks towards his daughter. “What happens when you use a red word, Thee?”

“Time out!” The toddler informs them seriously. “No more playing.”

The room bursts into laughter. Aelin finds herself caught between amusement and surprise. It blows her mind how much the little girl sitting on her floor has grown up—just in the time Aelin’s been involved in Thea’s life alone. Old regret stings her eyes for all the little moments like this Aelin missed out on.

Still, she grins, embracing that old, familiar bravado of hers. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m due for time out for the rest of my life.”

That earns her another round of snickers. Rowan smiles at her fondly, running a warm hand down her arm that sends little bolts of electricity through her. The rest of the room doesn’t even seem to notice, but it’s everything to her.

Aelin was _worried_. After several failed attempts to cross paths in the days after her return to Doranelle, the irrational anxiety set it. Maybe Rowan didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps he didn’t want to resume what they’d started that night in his kitchen. Maybe it was a one-off—a mistake.

The sparkle in his eyes says otherwise; Aelin works very hard to keep from leaning across the couch and planting a kiss to his lips in front of everyone. Elide already knows because of girls’ night, and if she knows, it’s likely she’s since confirmed her boyfriend’s suspicions by now. Essar would take the secret to her grave if she asked, but she’s enjoying a well-earned day off.

Aelin looks towards Fenrys and Connall, where they sit with Thea and Fleetfoot; the twins would surely die of shock. Then they’d come back from the dead with the sole purpose of tormenting Rowan.

“Hell, Ace,” Lorcan says. Elide swats him on the arm as Thea gasps. “Your _kids_ will be in time out to pay off your debts.”

More laughter. “Well, they’re _my_ kids,” Aelin tells her friend flatly, smiling slyly. “If they can’t manage to sneak out without getting caught, then I’ve failed them miserably.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces Tour Dates for Wendlyn.**

With the Whitethorns on the scene, the party gets underway. The adults talk and laugh, and Aelin manages to trick Lorcan and Rowan into cooking dinner despite being the hostess of the occasion herself. Vaughan makes a Facetime appearance, and all is well. Aelin is happy; she has her friends.

When she slips away to the kitchen for another drink, Aelin discovers a mess that she can only blame Lorcan Salvaterre for. Aelin certainly spent enough time on the tour bus with the guy to know that the drummer isn’t the cleanest person. With a sigh, Aelin begins to clean away the mess before returning to the party. She’s elbow deep in dishes when Rowan appears in the doorway.

“There you are,” he says softly. “I was wondering where you snuck off to.”

Aelin sends a smile just for him over her shoulder, loading another dish into the machine. She looks meaningfully at the sink. “The fabulous life of the hostess.”

Rowan’s smile is soft and content. “This is a far cry from your usual ragers.”

“No kidding,” Aelin agrees, thinking back on the birthday parties and album releases held there in the townhouse. Rager was an understatement. “It’s been hours, and no one’s even thrown up yet.”

He laughs and closes the distance between them. Aelin’s heart leaps with excitement at having him near at last. To her disappointment, though, Rowan isn’t approaching to give her attention. Instead, he rolls up her sleeves and asks, “Want some help?”

“You don’t have to,” Aelin tells him quickly as he reaches for a dish. “I already scammed you into cooking me dinner; I can at least clean up the mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Rowan tells her, bumping her with his hip, “about helping with the dishes _or_ making dinner. Remember: I always keep you fed.”

Something squeezes tightly in Aelin’s chest at Rowan’s old promise to her mother. It’s never been a secret that Aelin couldn’t cook. Her parents always marveled that she managed to live on her own without starving to death. When Aelin joined the band, the guys took a certain kind of pleasure in teasing her for the inability, too.

She and Rowan weren’t exactly fast friends, but once they got over their shit… Rowan slotted into place in her life. He became her best friend and personal chef and creative partner and somewhere along the lines a little bit more than that.

“My mother will be delighted to hear that,” Aelin tells Rowan wryly.

His laugh skitters across her skin, and Aelin ducks her head to hide her face. The effect Rowan has on her is really unfair, she thinks. Nobody else can scramble Aelin’s brain like Rowan can.

“You think so?” Rowan asks a little too quickly. Aelin notices that he looks a bit nervous at the prospect... about her parents.

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” Aelin teases him. “My mother practically runs the Rowan Whitethorn Fanclub.” Rowan makes an embarrassed little noise at that, and Aelin smiles. “She’ll be fucking thrilled when she finds out. Smug as fuck, too.”

“Y-yeah?” he stutters.

Aelin knows her smile is silly. It’s just the effect he has on her. “Yes.”

##  **_Dear Society_** **Goes Platinum.**

“So, I have to ask you something,” Rowan says as they finish the dishes. He uses the kind of tone that makes Aelin nervous, and she reminds herself not to panic without reason. Yet, Rowan delays continuing the train of thought, and when Aelin looks at him, he seems uncomfortable.

She raises a brow at him while drying off her hands. _Spit it out, Buzzard_.

_Don’t judge me_ , his green eyes plead. Rowan takes a deep breath.

“You, uh, spent some time with Sam when you were in Varese,” he says, but it isn’t exactly a question. Aelin knows what Rowan is really trying to say, though. “I mean, I saw a few headlines about it. At the office. And, uh, online.”

Aelin attempts to save him from himself. “Were you keeping tabs on me, Rowan Whitethorn?”

“No.” The word rushes out of him, and at long last, Rowan blushes. It doesn’t bring quite the redemption she’d hoped for. “No. I would never—”

He chokes on his own sentence. Aelin waits patiently for him to recover, to ask what he really needs to ask. It takes a little while, but his voice is even and careful when he finally asks, “Is there still something there? Between you and Sam?”

“Well, he did declare his undying love for me if that’s what you’re asking,” Aelin quips, realizing a little late how terrible a decision such a joke is. Rowan’s face shutters even more, and Aelin sighs, sounding a lot like Rowan when he’s trying to deal with her.

“We went for coffee,” she tells him gently. Aelin keeps her face open, her honesty clear. “Mostly, I groveled for his forgiveness, and as usual, Sam was way too good of a person. We’re—friends.” Aelin pulls a face. “Awkward as fuck friends, but you reap what you sow.”

Rowan doesn’t seem entirely placated. “Okay,” he says oddly, jerking his head in the semblance of a nod. “Cool.”

Aelin cracks a grin at him. “On that note, I have a complaint.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, eyes wide with the apology. “I didn’t mean to sound insecure or selfish or whatever. I just—”

“You and I have had what, like, fifteen minutes together,” Aelin interrupts him. “But you’ve yet to kiss me. What’s up with that?”

Her snark leaves Rowan speechless. Aelin waits patiently for Rowan’s brain to restart, smiling at his eyes grow dark with desire. She’s waited all week to get this man alone, and until now, the moment had yet to present itself. He needed to kiss her already.

Rowan steps into her space, and Aelin’s smile grows to the point of being painful. Aelin likes it way more than she probably should as he rests his hands on the counter behind her, a hand on either side of her body to cage her in. She tilts her head upward towards Rowan’s face and smiles.

“Hi,” he says, whisper-soft.

Aelin reaches for his waist, tugging him in just that little bit closer. “Hi.”

The feeling is euphoric when their noses brush. Aelin can’t help but giggle at the sweetness of it all; Rowan’s responding laugh is barely more than a breath of air. He smiles down at her and repeats, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she echos, sounding more and more breathless by the second.

Rowan’s lips finally brush hers, and Aelin sighs into the kiss, happy to have him to herself at long last. It’s easy to forget about all of their friends in the other room when Rowan’s lips are on hers, but Aelin isn’t worried about them. If they don’t know, she guesses they will soon enough.

The kiss is warm and gentle and over far too soon for Aelin’s liking. Rowan’s green eyes twinkle down at her, and he brushes an errant piece of hair away from her face. He tells her, “I missed you.”

“Yeah, same.” Aelin only has eyes for his lips, drying for another kiss.

Rowan laughs, looking all too pleased with himself. He leans in again, and Aelin clutches at his shirt collar, keeping him close as they kiss some more. The ghost of his tongue against her lips makes her gasp, and Rowan groans softly as the kiss deepens, turning needy.

The heat begins to build underneath Aelin’s skin, and she burns with it, grasping at Rowan’s hair and tugging on the ends, scratching her nails against his scalp. Rowan’s hands leave the counter to wrap around her waist, and he takes another step forward to press her hips into the counter. Aelin moans into the kiss.

She bites her lip to hide her smile when they separate. “I like kissing you.”

“Yeah?” Rowan’s eyes are locked on hers. “Even though I’m only _okay_?”

It grows harder for Aelin to fight her smile by the second. The expression Rowan wears is only making it more challenging—stubborn and yet, oh-so-happy.

“Well, you’re learning,” Aelin informs him, smiling slyly and playing with his hair. Rowan scoffs before pressing his smile into her neck to hide it. “I’ll teach you how it’s done.”

Rowan looks as if he’d like to defend his skills, but he chooses to kiss her instead. Aelin sighs softly into his mouth, linking her hands around his neck. Kissing Rowan is pretty fucking great; she can’t believe she waited so long to do this.

“I’m not even going to pretend to be surprised,” Elide says dryly, startling the pair away from each other. Aelin laughs at the interruption, but Rowan flushes, caught off guard. He hides his face in Aelin’s shoulder. The action makes the moment all the sweeter, and Aelin rubs his back comfortingly.

“Impeccable timing as always, El,” Aelin tells her friend without malice. The brunette grins, clearly feeling proud of herself as well.

“I’m under orders to see what happened to those chips.” The brunette looks pointedly in Rowan’s direction. “The children are threatening to revolt.”

“I got distracted,” Rowan says innocently. Recovered, the man smirks back at Elide, shameless and pleased with himself. Aelin smoothes back his hair, tousled by her fingers. “Tell your _boyfriend_ to be patient.”

Elide narrows her eyes at Rowan, never one to back down. “I like your lipstick, Whitethorn. It’s a good color on you.”

Rowan looks surprised by that comment.

“It’s called _Daring_ ,” Aelin chirps, pressing her fingers to Rowan’s mouth to wipe away the lip color. He looks surprised at first, but a soft smile spreads across his face. Elide is still laughing as she leaves the room; Aelin can’t stop smiling either.

“You’re impossible,” Rowan tells her, not sounding the least bit annoyed with her.

“You like it,” Aelin teases. He surprises her by leaning in and giving her another kiss. It’s a good one, slow and heady. Hot as hell.

She likes the sight of Rowan’s arrogant grin, especially while he’s wearing a new coat of her lipstick. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and says, “I really do.”

Aelin struggles to pretend that her knees don’t wobble under his attention. She doesn’t know when Rowan Whitethorn acquired the ability to make her so stupid. She feels bubbly, giddy with a surge of happiness. Aelin wants to kiss him again, so she does.

This time it’s Rowan’s smile that makes them break apart. Aelin rubs at his lips to remove the makeup— transfer-proof her ass. She shoots him a sly smile, but Rowan’s already watching her, looking happy and pleased.

“Chips!” A banging begins in the other room. The chanting sounds oddly like Lorcan. And Thea. “Chips! Chips! Chips!”

“I should appease the monsters,” Rowan says with a sigh, turning to leave.

Aelin catches him by the elbow before he can get very far. She struggles not to blush, but her words betray her nervousness, stumbling together until they become one long word. “ _Doyouwannastaythenight?”_

Her blush is probably visible from outer space.

Rowan is quiet, thoughtful, but Aelin is too scared to look to him for confirmation. Too much, too fast, is what her head chants at her. Aelin feels really stupid suddenly, and it isn’t in the good, silly way from before.

“I’ll ask the boss,” he says, aiming for lightheartedness. Aelin looks at him, surprised by the agreement despite the hope and excitement soaring in her chest. Rowan holds up the chips. “Though, she might leave me for Lorcan if I don’t give her some chips soon.”

A nervous little laugh escapes her. “Cool.”

“Cool,” he echoes with a small smile. Rowan presses a kiss to the crown of her head, heavy with promise and affection. Aelin has no idea how she’s supposed to go back out there and pretend to their friends everything is normal.

Gods, she can’t wait for them all to leave.

##  **Lorcan Salvaterre Shares Selfie with Thea Whitethorn.**

“Aelin Galathynius,” Fenrys says, adopting an old-fashioned, formal tone of voice. Her friend is just a little drunk, but it makes her smile to see him in such a good mood. Aelin wonders sometimes just how many of these silly little moments hse’s forgotten over the years thanks to the haze of alcohol.

Fenrys Moonbeam bows. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.”

“You as well, Mr. Moonbeam,” Aelin tells him, earning a groan from the impatient Connall. She smiles at the somber twin. “You as well.”

“C’mon,” Connall says, clapping his brother on the back and nudging him in the direction of the door. “Let’s get out of here, so Aelin can have some peace and quiet.”

Fenrys frowns, glances in the direction of where Rowan and Thea still are in the living room. “B-but—”

Connall ignores his brother’s protests with practiced ease, guiding him to the foyer and out the door without another word. Aelin giggles as she watches them go. She loves having everyone back in her life, talking to them daily instead of once in a blue moon. There was a time in her life when Aelin wasn’t sure she’d get to have these people in her corner again, but the truth was they never really left.

In the living room, Aelin finds Rowan standing in front of the TV, scrolling through movie options. Various princess-themed shows cover the screen, and Thea shouts out their different names as she recognizes them. Smiling, Aelin joins Thea on the couch, and the toddler claims her lap quickly, cuddling up to the woman to get comfortable.

If Rowan is surprised by their position when he turns around, he doesn’t show it; his expression is soft as he drinks in the sight of them. Aelin leans into Rowan’s side when he sits down, and the father throws an arm over her shoulders to pull them both close. Aelin thinks her heart could burst from just this little moment alone.

They watch the movie in companionable silence. Thea passes out quickly, tired from a day running around with Fleetfoot and her uncles. She sleeps soundly against Aelin’s chest, tucked in close and comfortable. Aelin and Rowan finish out the movie anyway, comfortable in their positions.

Aelin could almost fall asleep like this, her head resting against Rowan’s shoulder and his hand on her knee. But each idle swipe of his thumb against her skin keeps her wide awake and alert. When his fingers dance slightly higher than before, Aelin’s breath hitches unevenly, and her pulse speeds up.

She can feel Rowan’s smile. “I think it’s time to tuck Thea in.”

##  **The Moonbeam Brothers Were Spotted Leaving Aelin Galathynius’s Home.**

Aelin works very hard to convince herself that she isn’t nervous, but her heart racing in her chest overrides those calming thoughts. She’s petrified. And excited. And panicking. And happy. And—

“You okay there, Ace?” Rowan asks, and Aelin jumps.

She laughs nervously. “Totally.”

Rowan doesn’t say anything else, watching her with outright amusement. He smiles as she flounders, fiddling with her phone, and trying not to twitch too much. Aelin doesn’t know what to do right now. She simultaneously wants to kiss the bastard and run away from him.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “So—”

Aelin forgets whatever she was going to say when Rowan cups her face in his hands. The oxygen leaves the room, and Aelin stares into his heated eyes. Rowan drags out the moment, smiling down at her. Aelin thinks she might die from anticipation.

Finally, Rowan makes his move. He presses down on her bottom lip with a thumb and captures her top one with his teeth. The sound that escapes Aelin’s throat is wanton and downright embarrassing, but she could care less, eagerly kissing Rowan back.

It’s only been a matter of hours since their kisses in the kitchen, but to Aelin, it feels as if it’s been an eternity. She’s been dreaming of this moment since she left his apartment for Varese; it was so worth the weight.

“Is this okay?” he asks between brushes of his lips against hers.

Aelin moans something that sounds like an attempt at _yes_ , and Rowan chuckles, darting his tongue in and out of her mouth before Aelin can get a chance to taste it. She moans and digs her fingers into his sides.

Rowan slides one hand down the slope of her neck, grasping her shoulder lightly and then running it down the length of her bicep. His fingers brush her elbow before returning to her face, tilting her head to kiss her better, deeper, and Aelin feels everything else in her head float away.

The only thing she can focus on now is Rowan. His touch and taste. That smell of his she likes so much. The way he sighs between kisses, soft and happy. It’s all just… Rowan.

Calloused fingertips trail back down Aelin’s neck to her collarbones. They linger there as Aelin nips at Rowan’s lips, making him groan the kind of sound that makes her blood set fire. She giggles, delirious and giddy, before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then another to the corner of his jaw. Rowan’s mouth reclaims hers before she gets a chance to taste his neck. It makes her laugh into the kiss.

Aelin’s breath hitches when those talented fingers of Rowan’s tiptoe down the front of her body, slowly to allow her to stop him. They brush along the swell of her breasts and tease her nipple through far too many layers of clothing; Aelin moans, arching her body into his touch.

Still, they pause at her reaction, waiting for approval or permission—Aelin isn’t sure. She leans back, regretfully breaking the kiss, and Rowan drinks her in. He looks nervous. Aelin feels much the same.

“Is this okay?” she says, repeating his earlier question.

Rowan smiles. The man has the gall to duck his head, playing shy with Aelin after all of this time. She leans her hips into his, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him close to her body. Reflexively, his hands drop to her lower back, and they stare at one another in silence.

“Yes.” His voice is a heady sound, low and raspy. It makes Aelin shiver in his arms, and she knows he feels it. Rowan’s face splits into a wolfish grin, and his hands slide lower. Aelin’s breath catches. “Very okay.”

Rowan’s lips crash back into hers, and Aelin steps backward, blindly leading them towards the couch. Rowan follows without breaking the kiss, but Aelin stumbles over the rug, jostling them apart and making Rowan laugh into her skin.

“Someone save me,” she grumbles, blushing with embarrassment. She’s usually so much better at this, sexier and suave. Somehow, Rowan’s managed to steal away every ounce of her sly moves. It helps that he kisses away the embarrassment instead of teasing her, and Aelin forgets all about trying to impress Rowan.

Aelin lowers herself to the couch with Rowan’s help. He settles beside her on the cushions, claiming her lips and threading his fingers in her hair. Aelin moans and slides a hand up his shirt, marveling at the feeling of his smooth skin under her hands. Rowan hums his approval, kissing at her neck in response.

She melts under his attention, lost in the many sensations. Rowan’s mouth applies just the right amount of pressure, and his stubble is ticklish against the sensitive skin of her neck. Aelin can’t stop the little noises that escape her, but Rowan doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seems encouraged by it.

“Can I touch you?” He asks. His breath fans against her ear and makes Aelin shiver.

“Isn’t that what you’re already doing?” The snark breaks free before she can stop herself.

Her words make Rowan snort, and he nips at her jaw in retaliation for her attitude. She squeals in surprise, and he chuckles before returning to her neck, sucking and biting the delicate skin there. Rowan slides one hand down the front of Aelin’s body as he kisses her, massaging her breasts and rubbing her sides. His fingers continue southward, hesitating at the waistband of her leggings.

All of Aelin’s wit leaves her.

His fingers hook under the elastic of her pants, sliding along the front of the waistband. Aelin’s breathing turns heavier from his teasing, but still, Rowan waits, kissing the crown of her head.

“Please,” Aelin pleads, connecting the dots. Naturally, Rowan is ever the gentlemen, but honestly, it only turns Aelin on more, making her ache with need.

Rowan nuzzles her cheek, and Aelin tilts her head to the side to meet him for a languorous kiss. He slides his fingers into her pants and beneath her underwear, teasing her as slowly as he kisses her, fingers and tongue moving in sync.

“Shit,” he swears, biting back a groan as his fingers dip between her folds and feeling her wetness. Aelin whimpers, shifting to make more room for Rowan’s hands between her legs. Her hips rock against his fingers instinctively, and Rowan swears softly again, groaning at her eagerness.

Aelin pulls his face back to hers; Rowan kisses her deeply as he works her body, his tongue matching the stroke of his finger against her clit. Aelin’s cries of pleasure are muffled by Rowan’s kisses. When he presses a finger inside of her, Aelin arches away from him, breaking the kiss and moaning loudly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses. “You look so good.”

Aelin moans in response. Rowan doesn’t stop his work; he pumps his finger in and out of her body. Aelin clutches at him, blind to anything except the feeling of his hand down her pants. Rowan adds another finger when she asks, crooking them just right inside of her. His thumb plays at her clit.

“That’s it, Aelin,” he growls, and she whines. “Good girl.”

Rowan doesn’t kiss her anymore, not that Aelin thinks she could manage to return a kiss properly. Instead, she feels him watching her, recording each little reaction his fingers draw out of her. It’s the rapt expression on his face when Aelin cracks open her eyes that pushes her over the edge.

“Oh fuck,” Rowan swears as Aelin shudders with release. He kisses along her neck, and then her mouth when she gasps his name. Aelin can’t stop moaning, can’t stop rocking her hips against his fingers, as their lips move against one another. He doesn’t let her go until her orgasm passes.

Rowan’s hand slides free of her pants, and Aelin watches as he tastes her on his fingers. It makes her decide her next move right away. She pushes him away as he leans in for a kiss, and Rowan frowns, clearly confused by the rejection.

Aelin just kisses the downward turn of his lips and tells him breathlessly, “I’m going to ride you now.”

Rowan’s eyes are blown wide as Aelin nudges him back into a seated position. She sinks to the floor quickly, eager fingers getting to work on the button of his jeans, but Rowan stops her without warning.

“W-wait,” he says.

Aelin freezes, looking up at him from where she kneels before him. Rowan’s gaze is dark and heavy, and it’s clear that he appreciates the view, the position they’re in. Still, he swallows.

“I’m one hundred percent on board with your plans.” His voice is rough as he speaks, and Rowan bites his lip as he looks her over. “Just… not here. Not in your living room.”

“Do you have something against my couch?” Aelin asks, only a lot impatient. She’s just so ready to have him at last. Her first orgasm has done little to put out the desire burning in her. If anything, it’s made it that much worse.

“No, it’s a great couch,” Rowan says honestly. ““Very nice. It comes with great memories.” His smile is sultry. “But…” A sigh. “I want you in bed. Fully naked, preferably.”

Aelin takes in their states of dress. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull off her leggings before getting her off. It’s something she has zero complaints about, but Aelin also sees his point. She sighs, and Rowan has the nerve to laugh.

“C’mon,” she tells him, tugging Rowan to his feet.

Rowan smiles at her petulant expression, but he accepts her outstretched hand and follows her towards her bedroom. Aelin pretends that it isn’t nerve-wracking to lead Rowan towards her room like this. After all, she’s shared a room with Rowan dozens of times. Even the night after the charity event, Rowan stayed in Aelin’s room at the apartment. It’s not exactly unusual.

But it also is different this time. Rowan’s body brushes against hers as they walk because he’s trailing after her so closely. He teases her even now, his voice low in her ear as he tells her how much he enjoyed getting her off. Aelin bites back a groan, but she knows Rowan heard because of his answering chuckle.

##  **International Dates Announced for the** _ **Dear Society Tour.**_

In the bedroom, Aelin fights back a blush as she lifts Rowan’s shirt over his head. He smiles softly at her as he tugs off hers; Rowan looks at her like she’s something holy as Aelin removes her bra, sighing with relief at being free from the restraining article of clothing at last.

“I couldn’t have picked a less sexy outfit,” Aelin complains as she struggles to get out of her leggings and resemble some semblance of sexiness. Rowan helps her, laughing fondly; his fingers link around the waistband of her underwear soon after.

“I’m not really too interested in what you’re wearing, Ae,” he tells her, matter of fact, as he tugs the plain underwear down her legs. “I’m more concerned about getting it all off of you.”

“Fuck,” she hisses, lifting her hips to aid him. “That’s really hot.”

Rowan smiles arrogantly, tossing the cotton panties aside and settling between her legs. Aelin supposes that riding him will have to wait until later; Rowan looks like a man with a purpose as he kneels at the foot of her bed. Any complaints Aelin may have had fall away as his tongue dips between her folds, groaning at the taste of her.

“Rowan,” she gasps, and her fingers anchor themselves in his hair. She’s not cognizant enough to say much else, though Rowan doesn’t seem to mind. Aelin whimpers and whines, and Rowan groans and growls. Her body arcs when he slips his fingers back inside her, hitting the shallow spot within her that makes her dizzy.

“Fuck. Fuck!” Aelin curses loudly, unable to muffle herself in time. She comes on his fingers and tongue and teeth. Rowan groans her name, calling her a _good girl_.

It takes her longer the second time to return to the present. Rowan lays beside her as he waits, propped on an elbow, and looking somewhat wrecked himself. Aelin notices that he shed his jeans before getting into bed. She sits up, remembering her earlier plans and becoming eager to have him naked as well.

Rowan barks out a laugh but chokes on it when her fingers wrap around his cock, stroking him and licking her lips. Aelin smirks proudly at his reaction, continuing to tease him before deciding she wants him in her mouth. Her lips are just shy of the head when Rowan stops her.

“L-later,” he croaks, looking remorseful. “I’m way too excited. I’ll never make it.”

The request is a bit disappointing, but it also pleases Aelin deeply. She skips over his cock and presses a kiss to his navel, trailing her way up to his chest. Rowan lets out an awed laugh, meeting her kiss happily and eagerly slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Aelin groans at the taste of herself on Rowan’s lips, and it sends a spark of something through her veins and reminds her of her earlier desires.

“Condoms are in the table there,” Aelin tells him, tugging his briefs down his legs the rest of the way. Rowan leaps into action, pulling out the foil package and trying to open it with his shaky fingers. She laughs softly at him and teases, “You need some help with that?”

“You’re unhelpful enough. Thanks.” Rowan shoots her a look.

“I could suck you off while you try to figure out how to open that,” she suggests, fingers returning to his cock to touch him. Aelin grins like the devil at the way Rowan’s head drops back, thumping against the headboard. It’s just too tempting not to play with him. To make her point, she leans over his cock, breath ghosting the velvet skin.

The string of _red words_ that Rowan swears could undoubtedly earn him a spot beside Aelin in time out for eternity. She laughs loudly, pleased with herself until Rowan flicks her on the nose. Aelin gasps in surprise, covering her nose and looking outraged.

“ _Rowan Whitethorn_ ,” she hisses. Rowan merely flashes her an unapologetic smile; he adjusts his position against her pillows, and Aelin notices then that the condom is in place. He’s ready for her.

The tone shifts. Aelin bites her lip and drinks in the sight of him sitting in her bed, leaning back against the pillows like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. An arrogant smile spreads across Rowan’s face, but Aelin just rolls her eyes at him, crawling across the mattress and shifting into place above him.

“You're beautiful,” Rowan reminds her. Aelin struggles not to flush from head to toe. He notices and tugs her down for a gentle kiss to ease the shyness, brushing the hair from her face and saying, “I mean it.”

Aelin doesn’t really know what to say to his kind words; instead, she presses a shy kiss to Rowan’s lips. He seems to understand and doesn’t push the matter any further, cupping her face in his hands and sweetening things a bit.

Rowan lets out a low groan when Aelin reaches between them, guiding his cock towards her entrance. They both gasp as Aelin lowers herself onto him. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full, and Rowan kisses her on the forehead, the nose, her cheekbones as he waits for her to adjust to him. It’s a little overwhelming.

Aelin moves her hips slowly, up and down, up and down. She bites back the moan that her movement causes and Rowan notices, saying, “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”

“Shit,” she gasps. “You can’t say stuff like that, or you’re going to make me come.”

Rowan’s hands drop to her ass and help her move, rocking her hips in a way that’s good for both of them. He laughs at what she says and smiles.

“That’s kind of the whole point, isn’t it?” he says smugly.

Aelin yanks him roughly into another kiss. She isn’t in the right state of mind to argue with Rowan right now; she’ll have to save that particular hobby for another time.

They move together. Aelin runs her hands up and down Rowan’s chest, lost in the moment. Rowan’s pupils are blown wide; his green irises are nothing but slits, barely visible in the dim light of Aelin’s bedroom. His hands are everywhere at once, guiding her hips and playing with her nipples and pulling on her hair.

“Oh,” Aelin gasps as her orgasm builds.

Rowan gives her a messy kiss. He pulls away and swears, head tilting back. “Oh. Fuck.”

She knows he’s close, remembering what Rowan said before he was even inside her. Aelin’s peak grows closer by the second, and she doesn’t know whether to credit it to Rowan’s talent in the bedroom or their impeccable chemistry or just to the fact that it’s been a really, really long time since Aelin last got laid. The woman has few complaints either way.

Rowan shifts their position, getting his legs underneath them enough to thrust up into Aelin better. Swear words tumble from her lips, and Aelin grinds down on Rowan’s cock, burning with the promise of release.

“Don’t stop,” she pleads. “Just like that.”

Aelin slips her fingers between their joined bodies. Rowan groans when he catches sight of what she’s doing, but he follows directions well, keeping his pace and angle until Aelin’s inner walls clench around him.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Aelin goes uncharacteristically quiet as she comes. Rowan is the loud one, grunting and growling as he finishes inside of her. Aelin never expected him to be vocal in the bedroom, not considering how he is in his everyday life, but Rowan won’t catch her complaining about it.

They grow still, and Aelin sighs, seeking out Rowan’s face for a kiss. The man lifts his head from her shoulder and shoots her a blinding smile. He kisses her back until Aelin’s giggling breaks them apart.

“Let’s do that again,” she tells him brightly.

Rowan chokes on his laugh and twirls a piece of her hair around his fingers. “I’m still inside you,” he says, sounding exasperated but looking very pleased with himself. “Can’t a man take a breather?”

Aelin huffs, exaggerating her impatience. “I suppose.”

They share a few more satisfying kisses before separating. Rowan is quick to pull her down to the bed, wrapping her up in his embrace. Usually, Aelin would absolutely be on board with some post-sex cuddles, but regretfully, she pries herself away from Rowan to get cleaned up.

He’s pouting when she looks over her shoulder at him. Aelin rolls her eyes, pressing another kiss to his lips for good measure. “Don’t get started without me, Whitethorn.”

“I’d never.” Rowan laughs as she retreats to the bathroom.

Aelin feels his eyes on her the whole way. She makes quick work of cleaning herself up, eager to get back to Rowan and his kisses. She can’t resist taking a look in the mirror, though. Forever a creature of vanity.

Aelin’s eyes are bright in the glowing bathroom lights. Cheeks flushed and hair tousled, she looks exactly like a woman that just left a man behind in her bed. There’s the beginning of a love mark on her neck, and Aelin wants to be upset, but the sight just makes her grin like a fool.

She’s still smiling as she exits the bathroom and heads for bed. Rowan lays outstretched in her bed, a scandalous amount of tanned, smooth skin on display. He’s also fast asleep. The view makes her chest warm, even if it is a little disappointing.

Aelin crawls back into bed, curling up beside him in bed. She rests her head on his chest, tracing the tattoo decorating the curve of his shoulder. It’s newer. Aelin’s noticed it before, but until now, she’d never thought to ask Rowan about it. Aelin wonders at Rowan’s desire to get a tattoo. She’s a little disappointed he didn’t take her with him.

She decides to ask him later, snuggling in closer to Rowan’s side. Rowan senses her there, even in his sleep, and he wraps an arm around her to keep her close. A smile spreads across Aelin’s face. She falls asleep listening to the steady rhythm of Rowan’s heartbeat.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Throws A Party—See the Pictures.**


	48. Chapter 48

##  **Aelin Galathynius Album Tops the Charts!**

The next morning, Rowan wakes her up with slow, wandering hands and featherlight kisses. Aelin mumbles a protest right away, burrowing her face under the covers, and Rowan chuckles at her antics. Still, he gives in quickly, wrapping his arms around her from behind and pressing the lines of his body into her soft curves.

Aelin sighs in comfort, leaning back into his embrace and soaking up Rowan’s warmth. She’s always slept better with someone else in her bed; Aelin’s never liked to be alone. Yet, the fact that it’s Rowan lying next to her, hugging her close and nuzzling her shoulder… That makes it all the better.

“You going to sleep the whole morning away, Ae?” Rowan’s breath tickles the back of her neck, making her shiver.

“Yes,” she grumbles.

Rowan laughs softly, but his hands begin to wander, traveling across her abdomen and tickling her sides, teasing her breasts. Aelin sucks in a sharp breath of air, moaning despite herself. She can’t see the man’s face for herself, not in their current position, but Aelin just knows that Rowan is smiling, as arrogant as ever.

“You sure about that?” he asks smugly when Aelin presses her hips back into him. Rowan makes no effort to muffle the groan that tumbles from his lips when Aelin’s ass pushes against his half-hard cock. Nor does Aelin hide the hitch in her breathing.

Tipping her head back, Aelin uses the somewhat awkward angle to catch his lips with her. Rowan hums pleasantly and slides his tongue into her mouth, groping her breasts with one hand. The other he uses to pin her curves against the strong lines of his body, and just like that, Aelin is wide awake.

She moans, grinding her hips back against him. In this particular position, there isn’t much else that she can do except to try and kiss him again and scrape her nails against his scalp. Aelin finds out that Rowan likes it when she scratches her nails along the tops of his thighs, so she starts to do that too. She’s desperate to touch him and to have him inside of her.

Aelin tells her partner as much. Rowan moans, breaking the kiss to nip the corner of her jaw. She gasps, losing focus on what she was doing. Rowan’s fingers slide between her legs, touching and teasing her to get Aelin ready for him. She lets her eyes fall closed and archers her neck so that Rowan can kiss her properly there.

“Is that what you like?” Rowan purrs, taking the hint and sinking his teeth into her pulse point. Aelin gasps his name in response.

“How do you want me?” Aelin breathes when she starts to believe that she might just die of want. Rowan groans at her words, and then he tilts her face back for another deep and desperate kiss.

His fingers drag down her thigh, wrapping around her knee and lifting it onto one of his. Rowan asks, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Aelin pants, unable to control her breathing any longer. She reaches for where the condoms are and passes one to Rowan. “This is great.”

“Uhh,” Rowan groans into her ear as he slides inside of her. “Fuck.”

Aelin sighs at the feeling, rocking her hips back into his right away, impatient for more. Rowan obliges; he pushes and pulls, filling her more and more with each pass. In this position, he can’t get as deep as last night, but Aelin doesn’t mind. It’s still good. It’s fucking _great_.

Rowan is quieter this morning but still vocal. He murmurs into her ear, telling her that she feels _fucking amazing_ and gasping that she’s _so tight_. The words and attention make her body clench around him, which only makes Rowan growl more.

“Rowan,” Aelin pants, clutching the sheets in front of her and letting Rowan have control.

When it gets to be too much—and yet, somehow, not enough—Aelin curls forward, pressing her face into her pillow to muffle her moans. Rowan doesn’t let her get very far, tightening his grip on her waist and pressing his face into her shoulder blades.

Sounds fall from him quicker and quicker, and Rowan’s thrusting becomes a little more desperate. Rowan isn’t going to let go until Aelin has. It’s greatly appreciated—hot as hell, too. Aelin always enjoys sex more when a man takes particular pleasure in getting her; the fact that it’s _Rowan_ is just icing on the cake.

“Fuck,” she shouts into the pillow. “Rowan, I—“

Her pleasure takes over. Rowan reaches across her to link his fingers with the ones she has buried in the sheets. Aelin muffles the sounds she makes, recalling that they’re not the only two people in the house at the moment.

“Oh, fuck.” Rowan groans as he continues to press into her. “ _Aelin_. Fuck.”

He follows her with soft swears and searing touches. Eventually, Aelin’s body relaxes, and she sinks more deeply into the bed. Rowan fucks into her until he can’t anymore, nipping at the back of her shoulder to attempt to silence himself.

They share a moment of silence, and Aelin whimpers when Rowan finally pulls out of her. He retreats to take care of the condom, though he returns even quicker. Together, they lay in bed, struggling to catch their breaths and thrumming with satisfaction. Aelin rolls onto her back, shooting Rowan a smile and laughing at the content look on his face.

“Who knew that all I had to do to get you up on time,” Rowak jokes, breathing still uneven, “was give you an orgasm?” They both laugh breathlessly. “How many call times were we late to because you refused to get out of bed?”

Giggles erupt from Aelin’s throat, making Rowan roll onto his side to smile at her. She clamps her teeth down on her lip to quiet herself before explaining, “I’m very persuaded by sex.”

His eyes sparkle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Something crashes downstairs. The sound is metallic, the distinct sound of pots and pans tumbling from a cabinet. Fleetfoot begins to bark, excited by the action, and someone small and clever giggles, loud enough to be heard all the way upstairs.

“ _Shit_ ,” Rowan swears, grimacing. There’s another crash. He covers his face with his hands and groans. “That sounds like the work of my child.”

Aelin laughs brightly, recovering from the shock of the unexpected crash. “You think she’ll bring us breakfast in bed?”

Rowan peers at Aelin from between his fingers, eyes cautiously examining her amusement. “You aren’t mad? There’s going to be a _huge_ mess in your kitchen.”

“Nah,” Aelin tells him with a shrug. “It’s not like I’m using that room for anything.”

That makes Rowan smile, but another crash, bark, and giggle wipe the expression away from his face. Aelin bursts into laughter at the pure fear darkening the father’s eyes. Just how much trouble can a toddler get into so quickly? Aelin decides to find out, sliding out of bed and searching for her robe.

“I’m going to go check it out,” she tells Rowan, finding her robe where it's supposed to be. In the bathroom. Aelin is pleased by the mournful expression on Rowan’s face as she shrugs into it, hiding her body from view. Aelin could get used to being looked at like that.

“You take first dibs on the shower,” Aelin says. “Then it’s my turn.”

“Are you trying to tell me I smell again?” Rowan asks petulantly, referring back to her insults from one of the last times they shared a bed. Though, this time Rowan doesn’t reek of whiskey.

Aelin smiles at him, leaning across the bed to kiss his lips. Rowan is quick-thinking; he grabs her by the small of her waist to tug her into his lap for a better kiss. Aelin laughs into his mouth, but they don’t separate, taking their time with one another and forgetting about the chaos downstairs.

“Mmm,” Aelin hums, separating from him at last. “I should go down there before Thea sets something on fire.”

The thought kills the mood, and Rowan lets her go, flopping back onto the bed. Aelin giggles, pecks his lips once more, and then leaves him behind. It’s time to find out just what that kid of his was up to.

##  **_Morning Show_** **Announces Guest Appearance by Aelin Galathynius.**

Thea is in the middle of dragging a chair into the kitchen when Aelin finds her. Fleetfoot is dutifully at the little girl’s heels, ready to aid her partner in crime, however possible. Aelin smiles at the sight of them, leaning in the entryway and watching the scene unfold.

“Whatcha up to, Potato?” she asks when the little girl props the chair against the kitchen counter. It quickly becomes apparent that Thea is raiding Aelin’s pantry. The blonde can’t blame her; she’s kind of hungry, too.

Thea’s face is set in determination. “I’m going to make breakfast,” the toddler says, beginning to climb the chair. “Daddy always makes breakfast for sleepovers.”

Aelin blushes at the implications, only apparent to her guilty conscience. Though, she'd be lying if Aelin said that she wasn’t suddenly worried. Could it be that Thea wasn’t the only Whitethorn having sleepovers? That Rowan wasn’t just having sleepovers with Aelin?

Those worries are forgotten when Thea slips, and Aelin rushes to the kid’s rescue, swiping her into her arms to prevent disaster. Rowan’s daughter is quite a bit heavier than she used to be; Aelin can’t hold Thea as comfortably as she used to. She sets the little girl on the counter to look her in the eye.

“Will you help?” Thea asks with big, green eyes that Aelin will do anything for. Gods, she’s so screwed.

“Sure. What do you think we should cook?” Aelin asks, praying that Thea will ask for cereal or some other “meal” that Aelin can prepare.

Thea thinks the matter over with all the seriousness expected of a young kid. Aelin doesn’t bother to fight her smile as she waits. The three-year-old’s face lights up when she comes to a decision, and Aelin crosses her fingers and hopes for frozen waffles.

“Cookies!” The little girl cheers.

Aelin laughs. She doesn’t know why she expected anything else. This is Thea she’s talking to; the little girl can talk Evalin Galathynius into eating ice cream for breakfast. Aelin grins at Thea, resting a hand on one hip.

“I don’t think cookies are meant for breakfast,” the blonde says in a sing-song voice.

“Are too!” Thea tells her adamantly. She’s grinning the kind of smile that she could only have learned from Aelin or Fenrys, and Aelin isn’t so sure that she likes having that expression turned back on her. “ _Daddy_ says so.”

Aelin barks a laugh at the blatant lie. Rowan is the last person who would suggest dessert for breakfast; it sounds more like an Ashryver thing—Aelin or her mother; she isn't sure.

She grins at Thea, asking, “Oh, is that so?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Thea says, refusing to back down.

Rowan’s timing is impeccable. He appears at the entrance to the kitchen, smiling at the two of them, freshly showered, and looking far too kissable. Aelin shoots him a sly smile in greeting and wiggles her eyebrows in a warning; the father’s eyes shine with confusion.

“Should we ask him?” Aelin asks Thea, who has yet to notice her father. The three-year-old locks her jaw just like her father, and Aelin thinks she’s about to agree, but Rowan interrupts their showdown, curious and amused.

“Ask me what?” Thea’s mouth drops open at the sound of her dad’s voice, and Aelin catches sight of the regret in her green eyes. Rowan walks around the room slowly, eyeing his daughter’s guilty face. The father-daughter duo has a silent conversation, and Aelin suddenly feels as if she’s the one that just walked into the room.

Rowan’s voice is chiding as he asks, “Thea?”

Both adults wait for the girl to fess up. Aelin smiles at the two of them as Thea expertly avoids her father’s gaze. Rowan’s lips threaten to smile. The lying is a new development and mostly innocent, all white lies about who left the toys out or brushing teeth.

“Thea says cookies for breakfast is a Rowan-Approved meal,” Aelin provides when it looks like the battle of Whitethorn Willpower might last forever. Thea shoots Aelin a look of betrayal, and the blonde laughs a little meanly, entertained by Thea’s antics.

“Oh, really?” Rowan challenges, smiling.

Considering her options, Thea glances between the two adults before coming to a decision on her stance. She nods her head eagerly, wearing a mischievous smile.

“I, for one, think that is a brilliant idea,” Aelin coos in support, and Thea cheers. “This kid is a genius.”

Rowan sighs before turning his frown on Aelin. She can’t help but smile in return; annoying Rowan is her favorite pastime after all. The father says, “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

“I’m pretty sure I was on your side this morning,” Aelin tells the man with a wink. Her smile only grows at the sight of Rowan’s blush from the reminder of their morning activities. “Right now, I’m on whatever side gets me chocolate.”

“Can I counter with an offer of pancakes?” Rowan asks his daughter, ignoring Aelin. The little girl beams at the mention of her favorite breakfast item. Aelin’s never met anyone who loved pancakes more than Thea Whitethorn.

“Yeah!” the girl says excitedly.

“They better have chocolate chips in them, or I’m walking,” Aelin threatens, and Thea is quick to agree.

Rowan’s expression is one that Aelin has grown quite accustomed to having aimed in her direction: fond yet exasperated. She shrugs. “I can’t just standby and allow you to deny us _chocolate._ I’ll take the kid, and we’ll make our getaway. I know a guy.”

“She knows a guy!” Thea echoes.

Rowan flicks Aelin’s nose in reprimand, and Aelin hisses at the sudden pain. She glares at him.

“Now I’m really leaving,” Aelin declares. “You’re _mean_.”

“Aelin,” he reminds her, struggling not to laugh. “This is your house.”

“Hitting people is mean, Daddy!” Thea adds. Aelin smiles, feeling vindicated.

Aelin and Rowan smile at the little girl before resuming their bickering. Rowan sighs, asks, “Do you even have chocolate chips?”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” the blonde says dangerously low. Thea’s eyes go wide, worried about what the woman is going to say. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

##  **Who Will Open for Aelin’s** _ **Dear Society**_ **Tour?**

The day wastes by quickly and without regret.

Thea manages to convince the adults to watch another princess movie with her. Rowan gives in easily to his daughter’s request, but Aelin suspects it has more to do with the distraction the film provides than how both she and Thea beg.

With Thea preoccupied, dancing, and singing in the living room, the adults hang out in the next room. This way, they’re able to steal little bits of privacy without dropping the ball on their responsibilities to Thea. The toddler seems pleased with the arrangement. For an hour and a half, she barely notices that they’re missing.

Aelin and Rowan cuddle together, watching Thea jam out to her movie and talking about what they’ve missed in each other’s lives. Rowan circles back to her album and tells her what songs he liked best, and Aelin tries desperately not to show him how much it pleases her that he likes it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Rowan asks Aelin quietly.

The father has an appointment at a recording studio in the morning, which means that Thea is headed to daycare. The Whitethorns need to go home and reset for the busy day ahead of them. Aelin wants to leave with them badly, to stay the night at their place, and Rowan suggests as much.

But she’s scheduled to make an appearance on television in the morning. It’s most convenient for everyone if she’s home at first light.

Aelin pecks him on the lips. “Oh, I absolutely do,” she says adamantly, and Rowan flashes her a pleased smile. “But, my team will be here at first light to get me ready, so I should probably be here.”

“I could… drop you back off,” he suggests, sounding out the illogical solution. Aelin smiles at him, appreciating the effort to keep them together for another night.

In the next room, Thea collects her belongings. It’s not going great, honestly, but Aelin suspects the task is more of an attempt to keep Thea busy while Rowan sneaks in a few more kisses.

“You have enough on your hands,” Aelin tells him softly. “Don’t worry about me.”

He pouts adorably, and Aelin tugs his face down for another kiss. Rowan’s fingers twist into her hair, and it becomes apparent quickly that the man has plans to make this kiss count. Aelin barely suppresses the moan that comes when Rowan slips his tongue into her mouth.

Gods, Aelin is full of shit. Rowan is a _great_ kisser.

“Are you sure _you_ don’t want to be an irresponsible parent and stay another night?” Aelin counters. Rowan laughs lightly, but his eyes fall to Thea. The little girl is shoving everything in her go-bag indiscriminately. Aelin has a feeling she’ll be missing some items after they’ve gone.

His gaze slides back to Aelin. “Yeah,” Rowan says, a little remorseful but certain. “She comes first.”

That just makes Aelin want to kiss him again. But the beautiful thing is that she can. So, Aelin does. Rowan smiles as he returns the kiss, running his hands up and down her arms. Aelin could break into tears from the sweetness alone.

“Don’t forget about me!” Aelin cries after them as they go.

Rowan rolls his eyes. “Like I could if I wanted to.”

“Bye!” Thea chimes in, waving. And then they’re gone.

##  **Watch Aelin Galathynius Perform** _ **Everywhere**_ **, Live!**

The last thing Aelin wants to do is spend a Monday morning at Adarlan Records, and yet, here she is, sitting in another glass conference room and waiting for Dorian to come out and play double agent for—or against?—his father.

Aelin taps her nails impatiently against the glass of the conference table, checking the time for the hundredth time that quarter-hour. Dorian’s father is late for his very own appointment, which Aelin just finds irritating. Why book a meeting and then not show up on time?

Because he probably wouldn’t show up himself, Aelin thinks bitterly. No, Havilliard Sr. rarely attended his own meetings.

Essar peers at the singer-songwriter from over the edge of her cellphone, observing Aelin without ceasing her typing. The woman has mad skills.

“Your nervousness is showing,” Essar tells her flatly and looks away. The sound of an email shooting off into the internet follows her words.

“Well, can you blame me?” Aelin asks, snappy and defensive. “Havilliard Sr. called me _himself_ at the crack of dawn to schedule a meeting. He didn’t even have a secretary do it. Do you know the last time I heard that man’s voice?”

Aelin’s assistant grimaces sympathetically. Essar says, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen the guy. Besides in like _pictures._ ”

“You’re not helping matters,” Aelin growls. She starts to bounce her leg, and Essar sighs. Havilliard Sr didn’t specify what the meeting was about other than it was “of the utmost importance.” And urgent. It all seems like a terrible idea.

“Ms. Galathynius.” A woman materializes at the door, startling Aelin. At least, the singer forgets about her nerves.

The secretary is beautiful in that way that everyone is beautiful in this industry. _Everyone_. It’s hard to tell sometimes what is real and what is cultivated from hours in front of the mirror before work. Aelin knows that she would _definitely_ indulge in the beauty community were she to work a typical job amongst all of these flawless, famous people.

Hell, Aelin was barely keeping it together as it is. And she was supposed to belong here.

“Mr. Havilliard is ready to see you,” the woman says when Aelin remains silent. It’s clear that the secretary has been sent to escort Aelin away from the conference room booked for the meeting. Well, that’s a terrible sign.

Aelin groans, rising to her feet to follow the lady away. Essar stands as well, eyes still glued to her phone, but the secretary stops the assistant with one hand. She speaks softly but firmly, saying, “Mr. Havilliard would like to speak with Ms. Galathynius… alone.”

The smile Essar shoots Aelin is worried. The singer allows herself a millisecond to remind herself of the promise she made herself this summer. She wasn’t supposed to let greedy, hateful men hold any more power over her, and that included power in the form of fear.

“Text that absentee manager of mine, please, Essar,” Aelin tells the other woman as she leaves, swallowing back her nerves and holding her head high.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” the secretary says sweetly. It rankles Aelin more than warranted.

Still, Aelin makes a split-second decision not to take her temper out on this total stranger. The woman has no idea how fortunate she is. Aelin’s had a shit day. Her interview this morning was nothing more than a few nosey women vying for the inside scoop on Aelin’s personal life. The shit people would say to try and get a reaction out of her; it always amazed Aelin. It made her see red, too.

The secretary’s smile grows nervous. “Please, right this way. He’s expecting you.”

Aelin rolls her eyes once the woman’s back is turned. She reminds herself that the secretary works for Havilliard Sr. She wouldn’t put it past the man to take out their tardiness on his employee rather than Aelin.

The secretary leads Aelin through the maze of a floor with expertise, though the singer is pretty sure she could show this woman a short cut or two to make her life more comfortable. Aelin has spent most of the last decade here; she knows this place better than most, except for Dorian.

When her phone vibrates in her hand, Aelin prays that it’s Gavriel; she really needs to have a word with that uncle of hers. He’s done an excellent job managing her career, but things haven’t been the same post-Cadre. Though Aelin tries to remind herself that Gavriel didn’t exactly sign up to handle a pop star.

It’s a text from Rowan. Aelin missed him in bed last night. This morning, too.

He asks, **Did Thea leave a shoe at your place?** Another buzz. **Hopefully, a left shoe covered in purple glitter? We had a Class 5 meltdown this morning. I need to prevent another.**

And then: **Hello, by the way. I missed you this morning.**

Aelin smiles at the shared sentiments. She wants to call him immediately, but just as quickly, she remembers where she is headed. Worry fills her, and Aelin types out a message to Rowan quickly, feeling bad for furthering his already rough day.

**On my way into a one on one with Havilliard Sr.** Gods, Aelin feels like a jerk, but she needs to tell _someone_. **Just FYI. If I go missing, you know who to blame.**

Aelin frowns, realizing she didn’t answer his questions. He’s probably busy; Rowan doesn’t need more to worry about. **If I don’t go missing, I’m going to murder Gav.**

**Are you okay?** Rowan asks, forgetting about his own problems, as Aelin expected.

The sight of the grand door to Havilliard’s office looms ahead of her. **I’ll let you know.**

“Enjoy your meeting,” the secretary says, holding the door open to let Aelin in. The singer slips past the door and enters the office, but she sends another text before putting away her phone.

**You know the code** , she tells Rowan. **I think I saw a shoe in the kitchen. And Fleetfoot gets a biscuit every time someone comes home. It’s the law.**

Aelin sends the text and slides the phone into her pocket. Havilliard Sr. watches her with displeasure, but she refuses to feel bad for handling her business. After all, Aelin isn’t the one who scheduled a last-minute meeting for _minutes_ after her talk show appearance. He’s late. Not Aelin.

When all is said and done, Aelin and Havilliard are equals—assuming that Aelin doesn’t rank higher than the man seated behind his pristine desk paid for by other people’s talents. _Her talent_. Rowan’s. Cassian’s. Fuck, even Ansel’s. He’s only here because of them. Because of her.

Aelin decides with that thought that she absolutely ranks above this asshole. Gods, she loves Dorian, but she hates his fucking father.

“Aelin,” Havilliard says the singer’s name in the way one would a friend’s. It feels wrong, unnatural, and it’s irritating. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Yeah,” Aelin aims for a disinterested tone and falls backward into a chair. “No problem.”

An unbearable pause follows. Aelin suspects that the man who “made” her is attempting to make her feel uncomfortable, to throw her off balance. Havilliard Sr. wants Aelin to be the first to speak and show her hand; he wants the upper hand. Aelin has zero intentions of giving him the pleasure. She waits.

“It’s just come to my attention that your contract is about to expire,” Havilliard tells Aelin at last. “And we’ve yet to reach a decision on a new one yet.”

“No,” Aelin answers flatly. “Your lawyers and I were not able to come to a decision. You decided not to join us.”

The owner of Adarlan Records doesn’t even bother to flinch. “I apologize,” he says without sounding at all sorry. “I was busy.”

Aelin sneers at that last bit. “I suppose you were.”

“I meant no offense,” he assures her. Aelin doesn’t believe the man for a second.

“Of course not,” she replies. The problem is that Aelin _knows_ this man. She knows how he works; she’s fucked up in his eyes enough times to know when Havilliard Sr. is playing her. Like a cat toying with a mouse.

“Anyway, that’s what I wanted to meet with you today about,” Havilliard says, pretending not to hear the dismissal in Aelin’s voice. Then again, maybe he doesn’t actually hear it. People like Dorian's father never hear what they don’t want to.

The man leans forward and rests his clasped hands on the desk in front of him. “I wanted to make you an offer.”

“Oh?” Aelin waits.

“Stay with Adarland Records, with your family,” Havilliard says, playing on her emotions. His words could almost be a plea—if Aelin didn’t hear the imminent _but_ in his tone. “And in exchange, The Cadre can own its masters.”

Silence thicker than the blanket of snow outside falls over the room. Aelin can hear the blood pumping in her veins, but her lungs refuse to breathe.

The Cadre’s masters. Years of work. Rowan and Aelin’s music. It’s everything they wrote together, on tour buses and hotel floors. Aelin didn’t think Adarlan could make her an offer tempting enough to get her to consider staying, but Dorian Havilliard Sr. just did.

“You have to admit that I’m making you a very generous offer,” he says, and Aelin forgets all about temptation. Screw this man playing with her emotions. She’s done with it, with all of it.

“It’s insulting, is what it is.” Aelin barely refrains from shouting. Her fingernails dig into the wood of her chair’s armrest. She snarls at him, “That music should have belonged to us in the first place. It’s _ours_.”

Dorian’s father makes no signs that he even recognizes her anger. His face remains stoic, and he shifts imperceptibly in his chair. “You signed a contract. Legally speaking, the music belongs to the studio. Though, that could change.”

“Fuck this,” Aelin scoffs. She stands up from her chair abruptly and begins to gather her belongings. “Just—fuck it. Fuck the games. Fuck all of the suspiciously convenient rules. Fuck this company. This building! But most importantly— _fuck you._ ”

“I’ll have my lawyers send over a draft to your… people,” Havilliard Sr. tells her, acting as if Aelin hasn’t said anything. “I suspect you’ll be in touch soon.”

“Don’t bother!” Aelin shouts over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to waste any more of my hard-earned money on attorney fees.”

Aelin slams the door behind her as she leaves. The door closes with a satisfying boom, startling the secretary and making Aelin smile. The people in the near vicinity fall silent, gazes sliding towards Aelin with open curiosity. She meets their gazes without shame.

There’s no way this will go unreported. As soon as Aelin leaves, she knows that someone will send an “anonymous tip” to their friend at some shitty gossip magazine. It doesn’t bother her, though. In fact, she _hopes_ that this will be all over the gossip channels by lunchtime. Aelin is willing to sacrifice a little bit of press if it means ruining Havilliard Sr.’s day.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Storms Out of Adarlan Records!**

“So, Father Dearest played his trump card then?” Dorian asks over a stiff drink at the Rift. He’s pretending to be in charge of the club today, but a woman named Sorscha really runs the place. Aelin suspects they dated. It’s unimportant now.

Aelin grunts in response and throws back the shot. Dorian took one look at Aelin’s face and grabbed the nearest bottle. She spoke three words— _Your Father called_ —and her friend swapped bottles for something stronger.

She’s well aware that it’s a little early for alcohol. Okay, Aelin knows it’s way too early, but she’s also been caught doing way worse shit than drinking at one in the afternoon. At least she’s off the drugs.

“He must be really desperate,” Dorian muses, pouring Aelin another shot. He’s stone-cold sober, playing bartender, and being disappointingly responsible.

Aelin hisses at the sting of another drink. “Is _that_ what we’re calling it?”

Dorian shoots her a look. “You think that man gives away his masters because he feels like it?”

A hiccup. She’s drinking too quickly, but Aelin doesn’t want to stop. “Kind of.”

Her bartender lets out a long sigh. Aelin frowns at him, squinting her eyes at him to keep Dorian’s face in focus. Everyone’s always doing that, sighing at her. She can’t imagine why; Aelin is fucking hilarious. She could also be drunk.

“My sperm donor—“

“— _ew,_ ” Aelin interrupts. Dorian doesn’t seem phased.

“—is afraid of losing one of his best assets,” Dorian says, pausing for the outraged snort that follows from Aelin. “The bastard is desperate, and he’s taking one last shot at getting you to give in to his demands. The arrogance is a ploy. He’s distraught; I can tell. He’s too busy fuming at nothing to tell me properly about what a disappointment I am.”

Aelin scowls at the empty shot glass in her hands. “I’m sorry, but your father is a monster.”

Dorian’s smile is rueful. “Yeah,” he says. His eyes are tight with an unfamiliar emotion. Aelin supposes it must be hard to have such a man as a father. “I know.”

“Hey! Dor!” A voice that Aelin recognizes immediately calls out through the club. The first floor is empty except for Aelin and Dorian; they have a few hours until opening.

Chaol Westfall appears from the back, looking happy if impatient. “The scary blonde is here again.”

“I know,” Dorian says, pointing at Aelin. The blonde in question scowls at Dorian, hissing, “ _Rude.”_

Based on his face, Chaol is surprised to find Aelin perched at the bar, sitting before a line of empty shot glasses. He sends her a soft smile anyway and turns to Dorian. “Not that one,” he says with a thoughtful smile. “The one with the nails.”

Aelin is still clear-headed enough to notice how Dorian’s face brightens, eyes glowing with excitement. She grins slyly at him, but her friend narrows his ice-blue eyes and points an accusing finger at her. “ _Shut it_.”

Dorian is gone before Aelin can even begin to argue, leaving Chaol and Aelin alone at the bar together. Awkward. Luckily, she is just tipsy enough to be free of her usual inhibitions. Aelin observes him shamelessly, drinking in his casual dress and militantly perfect hair. She smiles at him.

“You’re drunk, Galathynius,” he informs her.

Aelin’s smile grows, showing off all of her teeth. “You’re getting _laid.”_

Chaol scoffs a denial, but his reddened cheeks say otherwise. Aelin straightens in her seat, drunk enough to miss the social clues telling her that this man doesn’t want to talk to her about his sex life.

“Spill,” she demands.

The door opens, and someone enters before Chaol can protest, but Aelin only has eyes for her victim. Unfortunately, Chaol’s never been one to back down from her, not when it counts. He grits his teeth and raises a brow in challenge. Aelin missed arguing with him.

“Does it persuade you, bodyguard, if I say how happy I am for you?” Aelin pushes, becoming troublesome and using her old pet name for him. “Because I’m _very happy for you_.”

A sigh. “I’m not discussing this with you—or anyone just to be clear.”

“B-but—“ she stutters.

“Ace,” Rowan says, making his presence known to her. Aelin turns in her seat to find Rowan watching her hesitantly, eyes darting between the former lovers. He looks uncertain. “You ready to go home?”

“Baby!” She cheers, forgetting all about being nosey.

Rowan’s face transforms, pleasing Aelin to no end and startling Chaol. It’s probably very alarming to see the stern Rowan looks so unguarded. Aelin smiles at the silver-haired man, resisting the urge to launch herself at him. She doesn’t think she’d make it very far before falling on her face. Rowan stands next to her, looking both worried and fond, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Aelin giggles.

“Just how drunk are you?” he asks, biting his cheek to hide his smile.

Aelin pinches her fingers together in answer, but Rowan doesn’t appear to believe her. His green eyes fall to the counter, tallying up the shot glasses. Rowan’s mouth drops open in surprise, and he says, “Shit.”

“Today sucked!” she tells him with too much cheer.

“Yeah?” Rowan asks with fantastic patience. It must be a trait that fatherhood has taught him; Aelin has zero patience. “Well, let’s go home and talk about it. How does that sound?”

“Can we make out instead?” Aelin asks with a frown. Chaol makes an uncomfortable, strangled noise and excuses himself, though, Aelin hardly notices him leaving. She looks to Rowan. “That sounds like more fun.”

Aelin can see the worry pinched in his eyes, but for now, she is a happy drunk. She knows from experience that Rowan won’t push her to tell him anything right now. Still, Rowan looks torn. “If you want.”

“Cool,” she says, throwing herself out of the seat. Rowan has to catch her to keep her from falling to the ground. Aelin laughs happily, wrapping her arms around his middle and hugging him. Rowan laughs softly and pulls her close, resting his head atop hers.

Aelin closes her eyes and breathes him in, enjoying his warm embrace. Things don’t seem quite so shitty when Rowan’s holding her.

“I like you,” she tells him after a long pause.

A laugh escapes him in a huff. “I like you, too, Aelin.”

##  **Adarlan Records Lose Aelin Galathynius! Hear What Sources Say...**


	49. Chapter 49

##  **Spotted: Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn Going for a Drive.**

Fleetfoot is the first to clear the door into Rowan’s apartment. Aelin follows her, giggling as the dog takes off into the house, tracking Thea’s scent. It’s clear the dog is hunting for her best friend; she looks disgruntled about coming up short. Thea’s not here. And then Aelin realizes.

“We forgot her!” Aelin cries out in concern, spinning around to gape at Rowan. Distraught tears prick at Aelin’s eyes. How could they forget about _Thea_? Aelin loves Thea!

Rowan hovers in the entryway, horrified by Aelin’s sudden and extreme reaction. He approaches her slowly, looking confused and concerned. “What?”

Aelin sniffles, fighting off the tears. “We have to go pick her up!” Rowan furrows his brow. “Thea is waiting for us, Rowan!”

Understanding dawns, spreading across Rowan’s face and causing him to smile at her. Aelin doesn’t know what could possibly be so funny to him. He’s the man that forgot to pick up his own daughter from daycare.

“What’s so funny?” Aelin snaps at him, upset.

Rowan’s hands wrap around her waist and pull her into him. Aelin resists the embrace at first, frowning at the man in disapproval. Why in the world would he want to hug while his daughter is waiting for him on the corner somewhere? All alone?

“Lysandra picked her up for me,” he tells her patiently. Rowan presses a kiss to Aelin’s hair, soft and sweet. “They’re going to have a sleepover while Aedion is out of town. Thea is okay, Aelin. She’s safe.”

Aelin’s mouth drops open into a little _O._ Much to her horror; Rowan has the nerve to laugh at her. She searches for something scathing to say to him for making fun of her, but then Rowan runs a hand across her cheek and smoothes back her wild hair. The touch wipes away all coherent thought.

“Thank you,” Rowan tells her seriously. His eyes cloud with emotions that Aelin is far too drunk to decipher right now; she makes an effort to commit the expression to memory so that she might puzzle it out later.

“For caring so much about her,” he continues, referring to Thea. “It means the world to me.”

“Thea’s awesome,” Aelin tells him with the kind of seriousness only a drunk person could manage. “Kid’s way cooler than you are.”

Rowan ducks his head to hide his laugh. His smile is blinding when he looks at her. “That she is. No telling where she got it from.”

They share a silly smile until they catch themselves in the act. Rowan clears his throat and looks away from her, blushing. Aelin’s smile turns sensual when she notices, recalling their conversation at the bar. Rowan’s promises to make out with her.

She sees it when Rowan recognizes the look on her face. He stands a little straighter under her pointed attention, and Rowan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back his nerves.

“You need something, Ace?” Rowan asks, aiming for a casual tone. The roughness of his voice suggests otherwise, dancing down her spine and making Aelin shiver. She enjoys the rumble of his voice, the way it feels on her skin. Rowan’s smile turns knowing, and he brushes a thumb across her lips with a confident smile.

Rowan knows exactly what he does to Aelin, revels in it even.

Aelin pouts at him. “You said we could make out.”

Rowan laughs softly, but his hand drops away from her face. “I did.”

“Then why aren’t we kissing?” Aelin says. Her voice is low and breathy. She lays her hands against his chest, rubbing them upwards to his shoulders and then back down to his stomach. Rowan’s face turns heated, so she repeats the motion.

“Because.” Rowan clears his throat. “I didn’t want to presume.”

Aelin snorts, decidedly unladylike. “Rowan Whitethorn, I am drunk. And I want to do _very naughty_ things to you. Preferably naked. And loudly.”

“Fuck,” he swears, hands falling to her waist. The heat of his fingers sear through the shirt Aelin wears. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“Have you met me?” Aelin asks. “I’m full of shit.”

Rowan lets out a loud, unguarded laugh. “Nice, Aelin,” he teases her lightly. “Very sexy.”

Aelin has only the veil of alcohol to thank for her next bold act. She grabs the hem of her shirt and yanks it over her head, revealing the lace bra she put on this morning. Rowan’s eyes go wide, pupils blown, and he takes a moment to admire her body. Aelin wears this kind of stuff because it makes her feel hot, but Rowan’s reaction makes it worth it, too.

His hands hover just above her skin, waiting for permission to touch her. Aelin steps into his touch, watching as his breathing grows uneven. It makes her feel powerful.

Aelin bites her lip and asks him, “How about now?”

Instead of answering, Rowan kisses her.

##  **Lysandra Ennar Goes Out for Ice Cream, with Thea Whitethorn?**

Their lips remain locked together even as Rowan leads Aelin towards the living room. She follows his lead, blindly walking backward until he presses her body into a wall. Aelin gasps into Rowan’s mouth as the cold surface shocks her heated skin. He smirks into the kiss.

Rowan swallows the little sound, resting a hand on the wall beside her head. His lips burn a path down her throat, and Aelin keens, arching into his body heat. Rowan learned very quickly, which parts of Aelin’s body got the best reactions out of her. Aelin wants to be embarrassed about the little sounds that she’s making, but it all feels way too good to bother with shame.

They linger there for a while, fingers tangled in hair and breathing ragged. Rowan decides to move her, guiding her towards the couch. Desire pools low in her belly as Aelin remembers the last time they were on a sofa like this.

When they get there, Aelin spins them around. Rowan yelps as Aelin gives him a gentle shove, causing him to fall back onto the seat. The glare he shoots her way is ruined by its accompanying smile.

Aelin giggles at him, but the sound dies in her throat when Rowan leans forward, pressing his lips into the skin of her navel. Aelin’s fingers lace into his hair, and she forgets all about her plans to have her way with him. Rowan’s just too good at distracting her.

“Fuck,” Rowan swears, pulling away from Aelin and leaving her skin cold. His green eyes shine with worry. “Aelin, we probably should stop now.”

In response, Aelin ignores him, straddling his lap and linking her arms around his neck. She kisses him, savoring how Rowan leans into it despite his protests. Aelin runs her hands down his torso and tells him, “But I want you.”

With that, Aelin presses her lips into the sensitive skin of Rowan’s neck. She hasn’t had nearly enough time to spoil him, not yet. Rowan’s too dominant in the bedroom to let Aelin take care of him. He'd much rather take the lead.

For the most part, Aelin doesn’t mind, but sometimes, she just feels like being in charge. She’d like to see just what kind of reactions she can pry out of the guarded man beneath her.

“Aelin,” Rowan scolds, but his voice is breathless. Rowan’s eyes are closed, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan when Aelin glances at his face. She grins, nips at his jaw. At his ears. His lips.

Rowan moans into the next kiss, wrapping her hair around his fingers and dragging his other hand down her bare ribcage. Aelin gasps, pressing her chest into Rowan’s hands. It’s a shame that he’s still dressed; Aelin wants to feel his skin on hers. She wants him as close to her as possible. As they kiss, Aelin reaches for his shirt to pull it off.

It doesn’t take Rowan long to spot her intentions. “Aelin,” he groans, voice strangled. Rowan pulls her face away from his, cupping it in his hands. “You have to be good.”

“Oh, I’ll be very good,” she promises, reaching for the button of his jeans instead. Rowan lets out a string of swears, grabbing her fingers in his hands to stop her. Aelin frowns at him, displeased about the change in speed.

“I think,” Rowan says with a sigh. He presses a kiss to her knuckles. “Um, I think that you should put your shirt back on—for a little while.” Rowan sounds remorseful, and Aelin’s stomach falls in disappointment. Still, he smiles.

“And I think that I should make us dinner,” he adds, working hard to keep his eyes on her face. “And then… I think we should watch a movie. Okay?”

Aelin’s frown turns into an outright pout. “But—”

“ _Please_ ,” Rowan begs. “Baby.” The name falls from his lips, and Aelin remembers how he smiled when she called him baby at the bar. She likes hearing it said back to her. Aelin likes it a lot, actually.

“Fine,” she grumbles, earning a chuckle from Rowan. He kisses her knuckles again, pecking a few kisses to each one before letting her hands go. Aelin frowns when Rowan nudges her out of his lap, but she catches sight of him, trying to adjust himself inconspicuously. 

Aelin grins widely at that, happy to know that her attempts have affected him. Rowan notices the look on her face and aims a scolding finger her way. “Behave.”

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. She must make quite the sight right now in her lacy bra and jeans and spread across his couch. Judging by how Rowan’s eyes linger on her curves, he appreciates the view just the same.

Catching himself, Rowan turns away from her suddenly and marches towards his kitchen. He doesn’t look back, but he mutters to himself as he goes. Aelin takes her time following him, both out of reluctance to do as asked and because of a total lack of coordination.

In the hall, Aelin retrieves her shirt and pulls it over her head; she’s still lost inside the sea of cotton when Rowan finds her. Laughing at her misfortune, he frees her from her prison, righting her shirt and her hair as he does. Rowan kisses away her frown.

He asks between kisses, “What do you want to eat?”

“I thought I made that pretty clear,” Aelin deadpans. Rowan chokes on his laughter, eyes crinkled in amusement. He kisses her one more time for good measure.

“Gods, you’re a fucking terror.” Rowan flicks her softly on the nose to express his frustration. Aelin catches a finger with her teeth at lightning speed, turning the moment hot and heavy once more. Rowan freezes and stares at her lips for an eternity.

All too soon, Rowan clears his throat and turns away from her. He refuses to look in her direction as he searches the pantry for food options. Aelin sighs as her attempts to get Rowan naked fail once more. He’s too stubborn.

“I’m going to go take a bath,” Aelin announces as her inebriated mind switches topics.

“You’re really not about to make this easy for me, are you?” Rowan asks, and Aelin knows her eyes promise trouble. He looks over his shoulder at her. “No suggestions for dinner? Salad? Pasta? My last shred of dignity?”

“Hm,” Aelin pretends to think it over. “That last one sounds pretty good.”

Rowan scoffs at her, muttering something foul under his breath that Aelin can’t hear. She laughs at his misery and presses a kiss to his cheek before leaving the kitchen.

“Fleetfoot! Wanna take a bath, puppy?” Aelin calls out as she heads for Rowan’s bathroom. The dog’s thunderous footsteps are the only indication that she’s agreed to the activity.

“Do _not_ put that dog in my bathtub!” Rowan calls from the kitchen. It’s more of a plea than an order, his voice lined with that signature fond exasperation of his. Rowan always wants to be irritated with Aelin and her antics, but he never seems to find it in him to commit to it. Aelin giggles as she retreats.

“Oh!” Aelin exclaims, turning around and returning quickly to Rowan.

The man eyes her curiously, waiting for an explanation. _Yes?_

_I know what I want for dinner,_ her smile tells him.

“ _Mac and_ _cheese_ ,” Aelin tells him aloud in a voice full of sin. “Oh! And those little dinosaur-shaped nuggets. I love that shit.”

“You’re worse than Thea, Ae,” Rowan tells her, but he’s smiling at Aelin like she’s the best damn thing he’s ever seen. “You got it, Aelin. Go take your bath.”

Aelin can feel that her smile is silly. “Thanks.”

##  **Lorcan Salvaterre and girlfriend, Elide Lochan, Share Photo on Instagram.**

Aelin can tell that it’s been a few hours when she wakes up in Rowan’s arms. She sighs; it’s warm and perfect and safe here. Aelin vows at that moment to do whatever it takes not to ruin this. Anything. Everything.

With another happy sigh, Aelin burrows into Rowan, deciding that she’s not yet ready to be awake. Her actions are rewarded with a soft chuckle, and Rowan adjusts his grip on her body, accommodating their new position in bed. He rests his chin atop her head and sighs.

No one says anything for long enough that Aelin starts to wonder if maybe Rowan is also sleeping. She snuggles impossibly closer to him, and Rowan’s fingers give her a squeeze. For the first time in a while, Aelin feels content.

Aelin tries to recall the events that led her to this one as she wakes up. She doesn’t remember going to bed with Rowan, which is a real shame, but she also doesn’t know how she got to Rowan’s apartment either. Aelin’s last clear memory is storming into the Rift and yelling at Dorian about his father as he poured shot.

She groans. All of those shots have become a dull ache in her head. Drinking sucks, Aelin remembers now. It sucks.

“Are you awake?” Rowan asks, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His voice is sleepy and lazy; it’s utterly pleasing to her mind. Aelin manages a small noise in response, and Rowan chuckles, pressing another kiss to her head.

He patiently waits as she returns to the land of the living. He rubs soothing circles into her back and pecks the occasional kiss to her hair. At last, Rowan whispers, “Do you want some more water?”

Without waiting for Aelin to answer, he moves to get up, but Aelin protests, clutching to him tightly and holding him hostage. Rowan’s laugh is louder this time, rich with enjoyment, but he relents quickly, kisses her nose, and hugs her closer. Aelin finally cracks an eye open; she finds Rowan already smiling down at her.

“Gods,” she complains, moaning at the thrum of her headache. It’s not the worst hangover she’s ever had, likely thanks to Rowan’s tending, but Aelin also isn’t drunk anymore. The veil of alcohol is no longer there to protect her from her harsh reality. “Who decided to let me drink with _Dorian?_ ”

“That would be you, Aelin,” Rowan huffs affectionately. “I believe you told me on the phone that it was _necessary_.” He pauses. “You all but ordered me to join you. By the time I got there, it was too late to save you from yourself.”

Rowan looks down at her, apologies shining in his eyes. Aelin frowns at him, curious about what could have him so upset. Aelin prays that she didn’t do or say something horrible and revealing to him while she was wasted. When Aelin asks as much, Rowan just laughs.

“Only that you’re super fucking horny for me, Aelin Galathynius.” Rowan’s voice is full of arrogant pride when he speaks. Aelin hates how pleased with himself the bastard looks, especially as a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“You tried to jump me every chance you got,” he adds cheekily.

“Oh,” Aelin says, thinking it over. “That’s not so bad. You’ll get used to it.”

Her answer makes Rowan smile. His mouth meets hers for a deep kiss, and Aelin hums with happiness, parting her lips for him and tangling her fingers into his hair. Rowan seems to enjoy it a lot when she plays with his hair, and Aelin’s never going to pass that kind of thing up.

When they part, Rowan wears a soft expression. He smooths back her hair. Rowan’s voice is quiet and reverent as he tells her, “I hope that I don’t.”

The emotion in his voice causes tears to prick at Aelin’s eyes. She tugs him back down for another kiss, chasing away the need to cry. Gods, she can only imagine how Worrywort Rowan would panic were she to cry right now.

They spend the rest of the early evening that way, laying around and sharing kisses and smiles. Touching. Rowan assures her that it’s okay when Aelin admits to being embarrassed about getting drunk in the middle of the day, and Aelin works very hard not to stress about the fact that she hasn’t checked her phone since meeting Dorian at the Rift.

It’s not too hard to do. Rowan proves to be the perfect distraction.

##  **Dorian Havilliard Seen Leaving Club with Mysterious Woman.**

“Are you sure?” Rowan asks as his face disappears into his shirt. Aelin is in the process of removing it, and they both laugh when his collar catches on his nose. Aelin kisses away the hurt as soon as Rowan’s free.

In answer to his question, Aelin just rolls her eyes at him. She takes a moment to run her hands up and down the planes of his body. They’re both kneeling on the bed, facing each other, and taking their time exploring the other’s body.

There’s no pressure to do or to say anything. It’s nice. Aelin really likes this.

“I think I’ve made my intentions perfectly clear today,” Aelin tells him wryly, and she wraps her hands around his neck to tug him down. Rowan follows after her as she lays back onto the bed. He kisses at her neck, and Aelin scratches her nails lightly against his scalp. Rowan grunts his approval, teases her neck with his teeth.

They take their time. Rowan runs the palm of his hand against the bare skin of her thigh. A very drunk Aelin didn’t bother with pants after her bath. Rowan doesn’t have appeared to mind; he probably enjoyed watching her run around his apartment in nothing but his stolen shirt. When asked, the man claims to have had enough to argue with Drunk Aelin over; her state of dress wasn’t as pressing.

Aelin wonders at what kind of trouble she must have caused him. Other than jumping his bones every chance she got. Aelin will have to pry it out of Rowan later, even at the risk of her delicate pride.

“You were drunk, Ae,” he insists. “That doesn’t count.”

Rowan’s stubble tickles her neck as he kisses her there, too softly for what Aelin has planned for him. She huffs at him, adjusting to make space for him between her legs. Rowan shifts, lining their bodies up and meeting her lips for yet another kiss. Aelin reciprocates happily.

Aelin pouts at him when they part at last. “Are you always going to be so careful with me?” Rowan looks confused by her question, making a face at her. So, Aelin clarifies, “Drinking makes me frisky—“

Rowan barks a laugh at that, and Aelin glares at him. He’s already seen that first hand. “But you don’t have to coddle me. You’re not some creepy asshole trying to pick me up from a bar; I trust you. We can have sex.”

He takes a moment to think it over. His fingers dancing along Aelin’s arm gives her goosebumps and quicken her breathing. “I just—” A heavy sigh. “I don’t want to fuck this up, Aelin. And I’d _never_ want you to feel like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

“Well, I, for one, would love to be taken advantage of,” Aelin jokes, stretching her arms over her head and grinning like a feign. Rowan doesn’t smile as she hoped he would, so Aelin sighs, becoming serious, too.

“Really, Rowan. It’s okay.” She sits up a little, brushing her fingers through his hair and meeting his somber gaze with her own. “It’s the tiptoeing around each other that’s going to fuck this up, I think. We’re both just… nervous. At least, I know that I am.”

Rowan looks surprised at that. “Yeah, me, too.”

At that, Aelin smiles shyly, glancing away from Rowan and feeling flustered. Rowan doesn’t let her get away with it, though, taking her chin in his hands and bumping their noses together sweetly. They share a gentle, knowing kiss.

Aelin shoots him a sly smile when they part. “Now flip me over and fuck my brains out.”

“Fucking hell, Aelin,” Rowan exclaims into the skin of her neck. To Aelin’s delight, the tips of his ears have turned pink, and she giggles happily. He leans back just to glare at her. “Why are you so difficult?”

“Because,” Aelin tells him, matter of fact, “it makes me interesting.”

They stare at one another—Rowan with his glower and Aelin with her grin.

She sighs. “Well?”

Rowan relents, kissing her far too softly for what Aelin has asked for. Still, Aelin sinks into him; she sighs into his mouth and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Aelin leans back onto her pillow, and Rowan towers over her. She rubs her feet against the backs of his calves, while Rowan’s fingers dance along the column of her neck.

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” he tells her between kisses. Rowan tucks a lock of her wild hair behind her ears and brushes his nose against her cheek. His kisses are sweet and gentle, a sign of his intent with her.

This is not the same Rowan that had his way with her the other morning before the day had barely begun. Aelin thinks she might like this Rowan equally, though, if not more so.

Rowan’s hands are on her in an instant, thumbs drawing circles on her ribs and lips kisses across her collar bones. Aelin gasps at the many feelings and arcs into his touch. She encourages his mouth to find her breasts, hands guiding his head downward. A moan escapes Aelin’s throat when Rowan gives her just what she wants.

“I don’t want to wear this anymore,” Aelin whines, pulling at her shirt. Rowan helps her out of it, tugging it over her head.

“You’re beautiful,” Rowan tells her. It’s a struggle for Aelin not to blush madly when Rowan looks at her the way he is right now. Rowan’s being way too sweet, and Aelin doesn’t know what to do with herself. His smile says he knows.

Instead, she focuses on removing the sweatpants Rowan wears. Aelin takes him in her hands, stroking his cock. He groans, leaning forward to catch her lips with his for a messy kiss. Rowan’s hand slips between her legs, teasing her body.

“Shit,” Aelin swears. “That feels good, baby.”

“Yeah?” Rowan’s voice is breathless, strained from the attention Aelin is giving his cock.

“Mmm,” she hums. Rowan places a messy kiss on her lips.

He begins to work his way down Aelin’s body, kissing across the hills and valleys of her body. Aelin gasps and buries her fingers into his hair, searching for an anchor. Rowan’s just tugged down the lace of her underwear, his breath tickling her center when Aelin stops him. She tugs him back up for a kiss, and Rowan laughs against her lips.

“Later,” Aelin orders. “I need you inside me.”

Rowan groans into their next kiss before disappearing. Aelin protests the loss of his body heat right away, but he’s not gone from long, kneeling before her and slipping on a condom.

He situates himself between her thighs, lining up their bodies, and Aelin gasps in anticipation of what’s to come. Rowan pauses to ask, “Are you sure? Do you need some more warming up?”

“No,” Aelin tells him and bites back a smile at his concern. She’s more than ready to take him. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing how quickly Rowan can get her worked up. “Now, get over here.”

Their mouths meet for another kiss, and Rowan’s arms settle on either side of her face. Aelin reaches between them to line his cock up with her entrance, biting back a moan when he enters her. Rowan growls at the feeling, nipping at her neck.

The pleasant feeling of being full washes over Aelin. She thinks that this moment is the best—those first few, satisfying moments of closeness. It’s good with most partners, but with Rowan, it’s something else. Aelin’s always heard sex is better when it’s with someone you care about; she guesses there must be some truth to the phrase, after all.

“Aelin,” Rowan pants her name. Just because.

She gives him another kiss, messy and deep until they both break apart to moan as Rowan pushes deeper inside of her. Aelin’s fingers tiptoe down his spine, and Rowan groans into the skin of her neck, rocking his hips. She takes hold of his shoulders, pulling him closer still.

“Give me your weight,” Aelin tells him, asks him. Rowan hesitates, clearly concerned with crushing her beneath his larger frame. Aelin squeezes him with her thighs encouragingly. “C’mon. I’m not some delicate flower; I won’t break.”

Rowan lets out an unsteady breath. She thinks it was supposed to be a laugh. “No, you definitely aren't.”

At last, Rowan lays more atop of her. Aelin moans at the feeling of their chests pressed together, skin against skin; Rowan can’t thrust into her quite as well in this position, but Aelin still thinks the feeling is _fantastic_.

“I still think I’m crushing you,” he says, looking skeptical. Aelin rolls her eyes at him. She lifts her knees and rubs them along his sides, twirls the short ends of his hair around her fingers. They meet for another kiss.

“I like it,” Aelin insists, her breath hitches on cue as Rowan’s pelvis hits her clit. “It’s all really nice, _especially_ the crushing bit.”

Another shaky laugh. It’s nice to hear that Rowan’s just as wrecked by this as she is. Aelin pulls him in for another kiss and drags her nails lightly down his back, his shoulders, his sides—anywhere that she can reach.

Rowan’s hands are everywhere, too. They squeeze her hips and run down her thighs, one tangles in her hair, and the other brushes her cheek, far too sweetly for Aelin to handle. The sex turns serious but in the best possible way. It’s intense and powerful and full of emotion.

Aelin becomes shy, closing her eyes and hiding her face against Rowan’s shoulder. Rowan groans into her neck, panting as they move; he turns her face back to his to kiss.

“Hey,” Rowan gasps. “Look at me.”

Aelin meets his gaze. If she thought the moment was heavy before, she was wrong. Their eyes lock, and they move together, chasing that sweet release until they find it together. Horrifyingly, tears prick at Aelin’s eyes, but Rowan just wipes them away. It’s okay. They’re good tears.

##  **Vaughan Phillips Shares Anecdote about Touring with The Cadre.**

The apartment is pitch black when Aelin awakens, finding herself staring at the ceiling in confusion. It’s the middle of the night, so the lack of light isn’t all that surprising. The quiet isn’t, either. Aelin wonders what woke her up, struggles to remember.

Rowan’s soft breathing is the only sound in the room; his face tucked into the crook of her neck makes her smile. It’s almost enough to lull Aelin back to sleep, but then she remembers.

It takes a little bit of effort to pry Rowan’s hands off of her. She fell asleep on her back, but that didn’t stop Rowan from wrapping himself around her in the night. It makes Aelin feel warm and fuzzy, even as she’s filled with frustration while trying to free herself.

Aelin steals a shirt from the ground. It smells like Rowan when she puts it on, and Aelin begins to contemplate just how many of his shirts she can take before the man starts to notice his depleting wardrobe. She might just have to take the risk, Aelin decides as she slips out of the bedroom and down the hall.

A chorus of words dances in her brain, driving her to where Rowan keeps all of his guitars. Aelin stares at them for a while, trying to decide which of them she wants to borrow. She strums a few of them, wincing at the sudden burst of sound in the silent apartment. Aelin is afraid to wake Rowan up; she’d feel so guilty.

Aelin picks up a teal acoustic and tests it out. That’s the one, she decides, liking the key it’s tuned to. She plays a few more notes, stopping when she hears someone approach.

Fleetfoot walks into the room, curious and sleepy. Aelin smiles at the dog, scratching her behind her floppy ears. Fleetfoot sniffs the guitar in Aelin’s hands and then begins to explore the room like the nosey dog she is. This room was closed earlier; it’s the first time she’s gotten to see it.

Aelin grimaces when the dog’s tail knocks into a guitar. It wobbles, the sound of slapped strings echoing in the guitar’s body. Fleetfoot glances at Aelin, tail hanging low with guilt. She’s far too awkward of a creature to be allowed in here, not without Rowan’s permission.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep, puppy?” Aelin suggests as she shoos the canine out of the room. Aelin closes the door behind them, effectively ending Fleetfoot’s exploration. The dog looks disappointed. “Go on. Back to bed.”

Fleetfoot takes the hint and trots away. Aelin notes she’s headed for Rowan’s bedroom, and it makes the woman smile.

“Right,” Aelin says to herself. She looks around the apartment, contemplating the best place to play that won’t bother Rowan. “Let’s get to work, huh?”

##  **Fenrys and Connall Moonbeam Tease Upcoming Project...**


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 50? I was in denial the whole time I wrote this chapter that we’ve reached to such a milestone… Boy, did I throw my outline out or what? I don’t know how authors write books capped at like 60k, but I guess this story could qualify for more than one book at this point… What a ride either way!
> 
> Oh, and this chapter is 8500+ words. As a treat. So, you know, don’t start it if you’ve got somewhere to be. Thank you all for reading. I’m so thankful for all of your reactions and theories and lovely words. Okay, okay. On with the story.

##  **Aelin Galathynius’s Camp Declines to Confirm Relationship with Rowan Whitethorn.**

As the days go by, the media soon forgets about Aelin’s temper tantrum and meeting with Havilliard Sr. The memory doesn’t fade for Aelin, though, haunting her in the back of her mind. The paperwork Dorian’s father promised her has yet to arrive, and Aelin doesn’t know whether to rejoice about the fact that he finally took the hint or panic because he _finally took the hint_.

Despite her worries, Aelin manages to have a fantastic couple of weeks by sticking to her promise not to let assholes ruin her good days. _Dear Society_ is doing fantastic, and Aelin finds herself very excited to get out on tour to see her fans. It’s been too long; though, somehow, she also feels that it hasn’t been long enough.

Aelin’s enjoyed being home in Doranelle, and she wouldn’t be disappointed about getting to spend a little bit more time there in her hometown, wasting the days with her family and friends. With Rowan and Thea. Aelin practically lives at their apartment these days, spending bright, happy days with Thea and long, warm nights tangled with Rowan.

 **Are you awake?** Her phone lights up on her nightstand. Speak of the devil.

Aelin smiles, snaps a picture of herself as photo evidence. **I’m even already dressed.**

 **That’s a shame _,_** Rowan responds quickly. **It would’ve been a much better picture if you were naked.**

Rowan’s words send a thrill through Aelin. It’s taken plenty of time and encouragement, but Rowan’s finally grown bolder with that flirting of his. Aelin has enjoyed watching him come out of his shell with her, chipping away at that infallible guard of his. They were always close before, even when they were just friends, but Aelin knows that it’s different this time. Rowan’s begun to open up to her in a way that Aelin never knew she was missing out on. It’s been the best experience.

A knock at the private entrance interrupts Aelin as she tries to form a witty response. She frowns and tosses the phone onto her bed to get lost in her covers. Rowan will get to win this round, she supposes.

Aelin skips towards the door, riding life’s high. It’s way better than any drug she’s ever indulged in. Rowan left the townhouse less than an hour ago, but the bathroom still smells like his shampoo, and there’s another toothbrush where there used to be just one. Simply put, Aelin’s in a great fucking mood.

“Hello, gentlemen!” Aelin speaks before identifying those on the other side. She assumes that it’s Ress and Brullo, arriving to escort her to rehearsals.

“What the fuck are you up so early for?” Lysandra looks shocked to find her friend out of bed already; her green eyes narrow in suspicion and a little something else.

“Rehearsals?” Suddenly, Aelin feels like she’s in a lot of trouble that she didn’t know about.

Lysandra confirms her suspicions. “ _Aelin Galathynius_ , you are in so much trouble!”

“For going to rehearsals?” Aelin gasps as Lysandra smacks her on the arm. “ _Rude_.”

“Oh, whatever.” Lys marches past Aelin and into the house, a woman on a mission. “It’s been _two weeks!_ I tried to be patient, but you’ve yet to tell me yourself. You deserve way more than a smack on the arm. Honestly, I should disown you.”

Aelin glares at her friend. “For _what_?”

“Excuse me?” The supermodel spins around. Aelin notices then the coffee in the model’s hands; Aelin guesses that Lysandra isn’t about to share her spoils with her now. It’s disappointing because Aelin could go for some coffee.

“I’m sorry.” Aelin sighs and checks the time. It’s nearly time for her to leave, and Lysandra isn’t making any kind of sense. “I’m kind of confused right now, and I can’t even blame it on the drugs anymore.”

Aelin’s muscles tense in horror when Lysandra’s expression turns hurt. She gapes at her friend, lost and confused, and so, so sorry.

“Lys?” Aelin’s voice is small and scared. “Lys, what’s wrong?”

“You didn’t _tell me_.” Disappointment distorts Lysandra’s voice. She isn’t the type of woman to show her feelings like this, and Aelin’s heart breaks into tiny pieces as she puzzles out the reason for the model’s grief.

Gods, Aelin has been so stupid!

“You told _everyone_ , but you didn’t tell me!” Lysandra sniffles, clearly struggling not to cry. “I just—It hurts, Aelin!”

Aelin inhales sharply. “I promise that I haven’t told anyone, Lys. Essar knows, of course, but that woman is practically my shadow. And Elide, too, I guess. She was there the next day.”

She grimaces, realizing how contradictory that is. The truth is that Aelin has told people, but it was never her intention to leave Lysandra out like this. Aelin groans, hating the guilt gnawing at her stomach.

“I-I had to tell _someone_.” She holds her hands up in surrender and pleads for forgiveness. “But… _Lys_ , I’d never leave you out on purpose! Not after everything.”

She would always remember that Lysandra was the person that held Aelin while she broke her own heart. She was the drunk girl that met Aelin in a nasty club bathroom and listened patiently as Aelin cried about her unrequited feelings. Lysandra Ennar has been there through it all.

“I was just waiting until I saw you next so that I could tell you in person.” Aelin hates that she’s made her best friend feel left out. “But you always have that gross cousin of mine with you or my parents, and I—”

“Do they know?” Lysandra interrupts. She’s started to sound more like herself. “Aedion… And Evalin? Rhoe?”

“No,” Aelin swears. “I’m way to fucking chicken to tell any of them, yet. I mean, I’ve barely had time to—” She cuts herself off, gasping for air. It feels good to talk to someone about this finally; Aelin didn’t realize how badly she needed it. Needed Lysandra. “I needed to prove to myself, first, that I’m not just going to destroy everything.

“And if I told them, and then I fucked everything up…” Aelin has to fight back the tears that threaten even just thinking of the possibility. “Gods, my family would be so damn disappointed, and I’d be… ruined.”

“You won’t fuck it up.” Lysandra rolls her eyes at Aelin’s dramatics, clearly recovered. “You love the shit out of that man. I can’t believe you’d ever do anything to risk it.”

“Never.” The two women share a smile over Aelin’s promise. “Though, Rowan wants to tell my family at dinner next weekend,” Aelin says. “That’s why I invited you to wine night this weekend with just the two of us.”

The news appears to please Lysandra. The model sniffs back the threatening tears, and then she shoots a menacing glare in Aelin’s direction. The blonde sags with relief; she’d much rather Lys be angry than sad.

“Okay.” Aelin knows Lysandra well enough to recognize when she’s been forgiven. Lysandra points an accusing finger. “But you should have texted.”

“That’s fair, I guess.” Aelin thinks it over. “But how did you find out in the first place?”

The gossip columns have had difficulty finding any real evidence of Aelin and Rowan being in a relationship more than friendship. Their behavior is nearly identical to how it was before their falling out—minus what happens behind closed doors.

“Rowan.” Lysandra makes a funny face. “But the idiot was extra weird on the phone. He didn’t exactly say the actual words, but it was implied.” The model scoffs. “I told him to tell you that I was going to murder you.”

“He may have mentioned that. I have a vague drunken memory.” Aelin makes a face of her own when Lysandra bursts into laughter. “What? He didn’t say why, though—ugh, that asshole! He ruins everything.”

Lysandra grins at her in a way that makes Aelin feel oddly defensive. “What?”

“I’m so happy for you, Aelin,” Lysandra says.

There’s another knock on the door, but Aelin barely hears it. Silver lines Lys’s eyes again, and Aelin bites back the bolt of fear that hits her. It’s a struggle to place the cause for this new rush of tears.

“Lys.” Aelin keeps her voice careful. Lysandra simply waves her off.

When was the last time that Aelin spoke to Aedion? Did that idiot cousin of hers do something? Did Lys? What else could make Lysandra so upset?”

“Is everything okay with Evangeline?” Aelin asks.

“What?” Lysandra seems surprised by the question. She wipes away the tears, and the model’s smile turns bright at the thought. “Oh! She’s great. I think I’ve convinced our uncle to let her stay with me this summer.”

“Oh! That’s awesome. Then…” Aelin furrows her brow. “What’s got you all upset?”

At that, Lysandra laughs. “Honestly, Aelin. The one time you could actually be _right_ about this, and you guess something else entirely?”

Finally, Aelin figures it out.

“Shut up!” A squeal of excitement escapes Aelin, and Lysandra’s green eyes sparkle with joy, nodding in response. Aelin can’t keep her voice down. “ _Shut the fuck up!_ ”

Aelin lets out another squeal and charges her friend. The two women collide, and Lysandra manages to smile and cry at the same time. They’re in that position still when Ress enters the room, looking alarmed by all of the screaming.

“Everything okay here?” His voice is nervous.

Aelin vibrates with excitement. “ _You’re pregnant_!”

“I don’t know for sure,” Lysandra whispers. Her smile shakes. “I was too afraid to take the test by myself, and I don’t want to tell Aedion until I know one way or the other. But obviously”—The model shrugs emphatically, smiling at Aelin in apology— “I seem to be rather moody lately, and I’m just so _tired._ ”

“Oh, Lys.” Aelin recognizes the admission for what it is. Lys is nervous and scared, and she hasn’t had anyone to ask for help until now. “I’m sorry I’ve done such a bad job at keeping in touch.”

“Oh, it’s okay. We both know how it can sometimes be.” Lys shrugs, flashes her a devilish smile. “Besides, if I were in your shoes, there’s no way in hell that I’d let Rowan leave my bed anytime soon.”

“ _Lysandra_.” Aelin holds a hand to her chest, mock-scandalized. Ress makes an awkward noise and silently excuses himself from the room.

Lysandra rolls her eyes impatiently. “It’s the hormones,” she says. “All I want to do is sleep, eat, and fuck my fiancé.”

“That doesn’t sound that out of character. Are you sure you’re pregnant?” Lysandra reacts quickly, punching Aelin in the arm. “Ow—hey!”

“I’m here for emotional support in my time of need,” Lysandra reminds her with a scowl. She shakes the bag in her hand; Aelin hadn’t noticed it until now. “Are you free to lend a hand?”

“I’m not holding that while you pee on it,” Aelin says.

Lysandra looks inclined to throw the bag at her face. “Can you help me or not?”

“Yes.” Aelin can’t help but think of her rehearsals. She feels a little guilty about bailing on her own production, but at the same time, Lysandra needs her. Lys has always been there for Aelin. No matter what.

“I just have to make a call,” Aelin says. “Who needs to learn to dance, anyway?”

Lysandra snorts. “I’ve seen you at the Rift, Aelin.”

“Wow.” Aelin glares. “Pregnancy has made you mean.” Lysandra aims for her arm again, but Aelin manages to avoid the impact narrowly. “ _Ress_! We need to get ice cream. Stat!”

“What happened to the ice cream we got yesterday?” Ress smiles knowingly.

Aelin makes a horrifying noise. “Someone ate it. We need more.”

“It’s nine in the morning,” the bodyguard reminds her.

Aelin scoffs. “As if that’s ever stopped you and me before!” Ress cracks a grin at her enthusiasm. “Now, let’s go get this woman some ice cream!”

##  **Lysandra Ennar and Aelin Galathynius Go Grocery Shopping.**

An hour or so later, the women sit together on Aelin’s pink bathroom rug and eat ice cream straight from the tub. They pretend not to watch the clock as it counts down to zero. Though each is guilty of a few subtle glances to their phones, neither calls the other out on it.

It’s the longest five minutes of Aelin’s life, which says something about how her best friend must be feeling. Lysandra has been uncharacteristically quiet, stabbing at the ice cream in her container and frowning at it as if it’s said something offensive. Aelin searches for something to ease Lys’s suffering, but the model beats her to it.

“So.” Lys stabs the ice cream again. “Have you told Rowan yet?”

“Told Rowan, what?” Aelin quirks a brow at her friend.

The brunette rolls her eyes impatiently. “Have you told him how you feel yet?” she says with impatience. “That you love him?”

Aelin despises how she flushes at the thought; she’s embarrassed despite everything. It’s not that she thinks Rowan will refuse her declarations; in fact, Aelin is nearly sure that he’ll return them. She’s just _scared_. Aelin is nervous about doing such a thing; it’s a big next step.

And one that she’s never taken before. Ever.

“Um, no.” Aelin stares at her ice cream now. “I haven’t.”

“Why the hell not?” Lysandra aims her spoon at Aelin in a downright threatening manner. Ice cream drips onto the rug, and the blonde frowns at her friend in disapproval. Either Lysandra doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Isn’t that, like, the first step in getting together with your second best friend?”

Aelin barks a laugh. “He’s not my _second_ best friend.” Lysandra looks outraged, and Aelin jumps to the defense quickly. “I don’t have a second-best friend. I have multiple best friends and one enemy, all of whom serve their own purposes.”

Lysandra raises a brow, a silent request for further explanation. Aelin points at her. “I gossip and cry with you. Sorry.” Lysandra nods her agreement. “I make deep confessions to Vaughan, the poor bastard, and Fenrys and I quote period movies together. Connall helps me pick on Fenrys.”

“And Rowan?”

“Gives me orgasms.” Aelin wiggles her brow.

Lysandra huffs at that, but she shrugs in concession. “Wait!” A frown. “Who’s your enemy?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre, of course,” Aelin deadpans and takes a bite of ice cream. She grins as Lysandra howls with laughter, smiling at long last.

Their laughter fades when Aelin’s phone beeps, marking five minutes past. The women stare at one another in shock, but neither Lysandra nor Aelin moves to check the pregnancy test. Aelin grabs the phone and turns off the alarm. She waits.

“I don’t think I can check it.” Lysandra looks like a ghost. Her green eyes are bright with fear—excitement and anxiety, too. “Can you look for me?”

Aelin forgets how to breathe. While the task Lysandra has asked of her isn’t that difficult, it feels much more serious. It’s a critical moment, a life-changing moment. Slowly, Aelin sets her ice cream to the side and crawls towards the vanity.

“Um, first things first,” Aelin says before checking the test. “Are we happy if it’s positive, or are we not happy?”

“I know that I’m not, not happy.” Lysandra is resolute despite the wrinkle on her forehead. When she sniffs, Aelin realizes that her friend has begun to cry again. “It’s just… This wasn’t the plan, you know? We’re planning a wedding! And Aedion is always out of town lately, and I—I’m going to get _fat_.”

Lysandra is absolutely pregnant, Aelin thinks as she stands to her feet. She’s never known Lysandra to be so hormonal, even during that time of the month. No, that’s Aelin. There’s no other logical explanation for her friend’s fickle moods.

Aelin takes one more glance at Lysandra’s teary eyes, and then she checks the pregnancy test.

“The good news is that maternity clothes are way hotter than they used to be.” Aelin’s tone is conversational. Lysandra furrows her brow at her. “And you’re rich, so you can afford them.”

“Besides,” Aelin says, “you’re probably that bitch that ends up looking like someone’s stuffed a beach ball under your shirt.” Lysandra’s eyes bulge out of her face, and Aelin smiles at her. “Either way, we’ll know soon enough.”

“What?” Lysandra’s voice is small. Hope shines in her eyes.

Aelin bites the inside of her cheek to keep from squealing. “I’m going to be the coolest aunt _ever_.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Photo— _Cuddles with Lys. #areyoujealouscousin?_**

Lysandra is asleep in Aelin’s lap when Rowan returns to the apartment. She shoots him a warm and happy smile in greeting, holding a finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet. It takes him a moment to notice Lysandra, raising a brow in question.

Worry shines in his eyes. _Is everything okay?_

 _More than okay_ , Aelin’s smile conveys. She couldn’t hide her excitement if she tried.

Rowan shares a smile with her and leans over the couch’s armrest, pecking a kiss to her lips. Aelin is quick to hold his face captive with one hand, successfully stealing a few more kisses. Rowan laughs into her lips.

“Could you two go be gross somewhere else?” Lysandra says, her eyes still closed. “You’re making me nauseous. Besides, if you two keep that up, at this rate, you’ll be pregnant, too, soon enough.”

“Lys! How dare you say such a thing!” Aelin stands and displaces her friend from her lap, and the model shoots upright, scowling at her. Aelin returns the frown with one of her own. “Weren’t you going to wait to tell other people until after you told Aedion?”

“Please.” Lysandra rolls her eyes. “Am I supposed to believe that you wouldn’t have told him by the time I got back from the bathroom?”

The model leaves the room without further argument. Aelin laughs at her and turns to Rowan, tugging his face down to hers for another, lengthier kiss. She frowns when he barely responds, and Aelin leans back to look him in the eye.

“What’s wrong?” Aelin asks.

Rowan clears his throat. “Lys is pregnant?”

“Yep!” She smiles. “Aedion is going to fucking lose it.”

Aelin drags her hands down the front of Rowan’s chest, having learned how it makes him go a little silly. She wraps her arms around his middle and presses their bodies close. When Rowan doesn’t relax, Aelin makes a face at him.

“Okay.” She releases him. “What’s really the matter?”

“Would it be so terrible?” Rowan trains his gaze over her shoulder, studiously avoiding looking her in the face. Aelin doesn’t like the feeling that his behavior gives her; she’d never want to make him feel uncomfortable.

Still, his body language doesn’t relax, and Aelin struggles to resist the urge to comfort him. It’s clear that Rowan is upset with her.

“Would what be terrible?” she asks.

“Uh. What Lys said.” Rowan ducks his head and takes a moment to clear his throat. “You acted so… horrified by it—the idea of being pregnant.”

“You want to have a baby?” Aelin yelps before she can think better of it. The panic makes the words spill from her, burying herself deeper. “Like, with me? _Now_?”

Hurt distorts Rowan’s face, and Aelin knows that she’s fucked up terribly. Aelin opens her mouth to say something, anything, but she can’t seem to find the right words. She wonders where this has come from, what’s triggered this abrupt conversation topic. How long has Rowan been holding this in?

“Forget about it.” Rowan cracks a pained smile. “It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just surprising.” Aelin reaches for him, trying to apologize with her touch alone. She knows that she’s hurt his feelings, but when Aelin goes for him, Rowan steps out of her embrace. It strangles the words in her throat.

“Rowan?” Aelin says his name like an apology.

Rowan grimaces and looks away; it’s clear to Aelin that he’s searching for a reason to leave. Aelin struggles to stop whatever has just occurred, but she doesn’t know what to do or say. She isn’t sure what she’s done wrong.

“I should probably go,” Rowan says. He runs a hand through his hair and ducks his head again, avoiding looking at Aelin. “I have some errands to do before I need to pick Thea up from daycare.”

“What?” Aelin swallows back the tears. Rowan is _avoiding_ her. “I thought her grandparents were picking her up. We had dinner plans with Lys. Remember?”

Guilt flashes across Rowan’s face. They’re best friends; they both know what he’s doing. Rowan is _lying_. Suddenly, everything begins to move too quickly for Aelin, and she doesn’t know how to get a hold of the situation and slow things down.

“I have to reschedule, Ace.” _Ace._ Her mind whirls as he kisses her forehead. “But I’ll see you later.”

Rowan slips quietly from the townhouse, leaving a confused and upset Aelin in his wake. Gods, she was fucking confused. Rowan was upset with her, and Aelin couldn’t figure out why exactly. Because she didn’t want to get pregnant?

It didn’t help that Rowan had openly lied to get out of dinner with her and Lysandra. It never mattered how pissed the two were with each other; Aelin and Rowan never left things unsettled like this. Never.

Aelin is still staring after Rowan when Lysandra gets back from the bathroom.

“I hope you guys got it all out of your system now,” Lys purrs. “I’d hate to have my appetite ruined by your _canoodling._ Where—” A pause. The model sounds worried. “Aelin? What’s wrong? Where’s Rowan gone off to?”

“Honestly, Lys.” Aelin is too shocked to even think of crying. She turns towards her friend. “I have no fucking idea.”

##  **Lysandra Ennar and Aelin Galathynius Out on the Town!**

The following morning, the paperwork arrives. It’s an omen for the morning ahead of her, and Aelin tries her hardest to be civil to the blushing courier who drops off the package. It’s not the messenger’s fault that Aelin just woke up from the shittiest night of sleep ever.

Aelin’s mind was on Rowan all night. It didn’t help that her bed smelled like him or that he wasn’t returning her calls. Aelin was still tossing and turning, replaying their last conversation in her head when her phone buzzed. It was 3 AM.

 **I’m sorry,** was the first text. Then, **I got busy. Talk to you tonight.**

It didn’t help. If anything, the nonanswer made things worse for Aelin. She ends up tripping her way through dance rehearsals, too busy thinking over her last conversation with Rowan to watch her feet.

It gets so bad that the choreographer delicately suggests simplifying her routine, and Aelin gets an attitude with him, finding the man to be the perfect outlet for her bad mood. The backup dancers get uncomfortable and dodge Aelin’s every attempt to make eye contact; she doesn’t blame them.

Aelin wraps up the rehearsal with one of her infamous _I’m Sorry For Being a Fucking Diva_ speeches slash apologies.

All in all, it’s a pretty shit day.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Spotted Leaving Dance Studio—Tour Prep?**

Aelin has just settled in at the dining table with the Adarlan contract and an overfilled glass of wine when someone knocks at the door. She decides to ignore them; whoever it is, Aelin doesn’t want to talk to them. She needs some time alone to wallow in her overwhelming self-pity.

So, imagine her surprise when the electronic lock turns on its own. It’s someone who knows the code then. Aelin frowns. Why bother knocking first?

Rowan enters the dining room a few moments later, Fleetfoot circling his feet like a piranha. Aelin’s gaze locks on his sad expression, and Rowan grimaces, holding up a bag of takeout with _MALAKAI’S_ stamped across it in a bright red font.

“If you’d rather I didn’t stay,” he begins carefully, “that’s totally fine. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Aelin nods stiffly, recognizing the smell of her favorite dish on Emrys’s menu.

Rowan offers her a hesitant smile. “And some chocolate hazelnut cake. For good measure.”

“Oh.” Aelin raises a brow. She can’t help the cool tone she takes with him; she’s afraid that doing otherwise would cause her to cry. “You must be feeling very guilty then.”

It’s not a rejection, so Rowan steps deeper into the room. He sets the bag of food on the table and crosses his arms, frowning at the woodgrain like it’s personally offended him. It’s as much an admission of guilt as the actual words, at least coming from Rowan.

He takes a seat, and together they sit in an odd sort of silence, each waiting on the other to speak first. It’s not uncomfortable, but Aelin wouldn’t call their staring contest comfortable either. It’s just… wrong. They’re never uncomfortable with each other. It gives Aelin pause, makes her doubt herself. So, she waits.

Rowan opens his mouth and closes it a few times over, but he doesn’t seem capable of finding the right words to express himself. Aelin fights off a smile as Rowan groans, slapping his hands to his face to cover it before lying face-first against the table. He must be having just as hard a time as she is.

Aelin decides to end his misery. “I didn’t know knocking me up was such a big deal to you.”

Rowan lets out a strangled laugh, but it’s muted by his hands sandwiched between his face and the table. Aelin lets loose the smile and waits for him to recover from his internal struggle. In the meantime, she reaches for the food. Needing something to do, Aelin begins to unpack it, spreading the selection out for them. Rowan reappears and watches her work. He sighs to signal he’s ready to talk.

“Aelin.” His voice is quiet and afraid. “Do you want a family?”

She nearly spits out her first bite of food. “What?”

Rowan huffs a laugh, but it’s without humor. “It doesn’t help that you keep doing that.” When he looks to Aelin, Rowan’s face is serious. “A family,” he repeats. “Do you want to have one someday?”

“You’re my family, Ro,” Aelin says. It earns her a half of a smile. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

“No,” he admits, sounding tired. Aelin can see it as Rowan struggles not to build his walls up high and retreat within himself. “No, it’s not.”

Aelin waits as Rowan mulls over his next question. She finds herself suddenly without an appetite and pushes her plate to the side. Those green eyes of his look her way; it’s unfair how they cut through her.

“I’ll rephrase: Aelin, do you want kids?”

“Oh.” Aelin hates that that’s all she can come up with. Rowan doesn’t like the response either, if his face is any indication. She swallows back her nerves. This is Rowan; she can tell him anything.

“Is that…” Rowan coughs to clear his emotion-clogged throat. “Is that something you would want in your life? In your future?”

The silence stretches between them again.

“To be honest, Aelin says after a while, “I just assumed that a family wasn’t in the plans for me.” Rowan’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Uh, I figured that I’d never find anyone that I even _wanted_ to have kids with, to start a family of my own with.”

Rowan looks surprised by that. “Why not?”

“Um.” Aelin reaches for her wine. She’s going to need it for this particular confessional. “Because, uh, I wanted that with you.” She laughs nervously and stares into the glass in her hands, afraid to meet Rowan’s eye. “And, well, that wasn’t exactly an option anymore. So I just figured,” she shrugs at him, “that was the end of it.”

“Aelin.” Rowan’s face shatters with grief. “I am _so_ _sorry_.”

“It’s okay,” Aelin tells him and finds her voice tight with emotions. The topic at hand isn’t one that Aelin was prepared for, and now she struggles to control the sudden rush of old, boxed up feelings. The heartbreak and loss. “I—”

Rowan’s apologetic eyes don’t help matters. A horrible little sob escapes her throat, and Aelin works furiously to wipe the tears away as they appear. She can’t look at him, stares out the window into the garden instead.

She says, “I don’t blame you for doing what you had to.”

“Well, you should!” Rowan’s anger surprises Aelin, making her jump. He looks furious, but it’s clear the feeling is directed inward more than anything. “I mean, I know I do. Aelin, I fucked _everything_ in our lives up. All of it, and what’s more, I was a total jackass about it.”

He lets out a hateful scoff. “Gods, I don’t know why you even let me back in your life.”

“Because—” A hiccup. “—You bring me cake.”

Rowan looks startled when he laughs. Aelin can tell he didn’t want to find her joke funny, not in such a profound moment. His chair scraps against the floor, and Rowan circles the table to claim the seat beside her. Aelin spares him a watery smile, unable to beat the tears that plague her. He caught her off guard with this one.

“And I’m sorry to make you cry.” Rowan opens his arms to her, inviting her into a hug. Aelin is quick to fall into it, and Rowan hugs her close with a sigh. “Again.”

“Hey, I cry all of the time.” Aelin sniffles for emphasis. Reigning in her emotions, she releases a shuddering breath. “It’s not all that much of an accomplishment.”

“No, it isn’t,” Rowan agrees in a sad voice. He presses a kiss to her hair.

Aelin leans into his warmth and savors the feeling of his strength. She takes a moment to breathe him in, and then she sighs. As her tears begin to dry, Aelin feels very silly for crying like that.

“Is that what upset you yesterday?” Aelin pulls away from Rowan to see his face better. “That I might not want kids?”

“Kind of.” Rowan looks guilty at the admission. Aelin brushes her fingers against his cheek to urge him to continue. Rowan sighs. “You always seem to panic when someone brings up the idea of having children, that is, if you don’t completely shut the conversation down. It—”

He pauses. “Thea is my daughter, and I- I always hated being an only child. I don’t want her to be one.”

Aelin knows, of course, about Rowan’s childhood wish for a brother or sister to keep him company. She links their fingers together and claims one of his hands for her own, holding it in her lap. It feels better that way; it makes the conversation easier somehow.

“You want her to have siblings,” Aelin concludes. Rowan nods.

“But I could live with not having more children,” Rowan says, hedging his bets. Aelin hates that he feels the need to do so. “The gods know that my kid has enough uncles.” They both chuckle at that, and Rowan smiles, at last, squeezing her fingers. “At least, Thea will have plenty of cousins.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Aelin jokes. “I’m having trouble picturing the twins or Lor as fathers. Gross.”

Rowan scoffs at her. “It’s more than that, though,” he continues. Those piercing green eyes glance at Aelin, and her heart jumps into her throat.

“I like to think that I’ll get married again.” He gives Aelin a shy, tentative smile that makes her head spin with everything they are and aren’t saying. “And I want whoever that is to _want_ to be Thea’s mom. I want them to want _her_. As their own.”

“Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin’s voice is barely a breath of air. “You’re not asking me to marry you, are you?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head and smiles. Rowan brushes at Aelin’s cheeks to wipe away the tear stains, and she presses a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Not yet, anyway.” Rowan spares her a wry smile. “Not until I know you won’t run away from me.”

Aelin lets out a nervous laugh. He knows her far too well; she would absolutely freak out if he popped that kind of question just now. Rowan’s eyes smile at her, and he smoothes back a lock of her hair. Aelin sighs as his lips meet hers for a gentle kiss. It’s an apology and a promise for more.

She knows that this is it, the moment Aelin’s been waiting for. She needs to, wants to, tell Rowan that she loves him, but the words get caught in her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Aelin is scared; she’s never told anyone that she loved them before. Because Aelin’s never loved anyone else, it’s always been Rowan.

Somehow, that makes it a million times more terrifying.

“What’s that?” Rowan asks before Aelin can gather the courage to confess.

“What?” Aelin follows his line of sight. At last, Rowan has noticed the pile of papers before them. Aelin’s potential new contract with Adarlan Records.

Aelin lets out a heavy sigh. “A contract to sell my soul.”

“Oh,” Rowan says, raising a brow. “That’s all? Dorian finally get a pair?”

“No, but his dad did.” Aelin frowns.

She holds Rowan’s gaze for a long time, hating how badly she missed those worried green eyes. They were separated for less than 24 hours. What was Aelin going to do when her tour finally kicked off? She was such a mess.

“Aelin.” Rowan pauses, clearly at a loss for words. “I thought… What about Damaris Labels? Fen and Con?”

“They don’t own The Cadre’s masters,” Aelin tells him.

She bites her lip, fighting back the misery and tears. The last thing Aelin wants to do is remain with Adarlan Records; she’d rather quit music altogether than sign the contract sitting in front of her. But the opportunity to regain the band’s masters… It was priceless. Aelin couldn’t pass it up.

“Band meeting,” Rowan declares.

“Huh?” Aelin wrinkles her forehead. “Why?”

“Band meeting,” Rowan repeats without explanation. He pulls out his phone and calls someone. “Lor! Band meeting. Yes— _now_.”

##  **Why Has Rowan Whitethorn Been Spending So Much Time With Aelin Galathynius?**

Back in The Cadre’s touring days, band arguments were a standard occurrence in their day-to-day. The fights ranged anywhere from a typical Moonbeam Sibling Bicker to a Classic Rowan and Aelin Showdown. These arguments weren’t new to the band, but the fact that they were all stuck on a tour bus together was.

Band meetings became the way to solve it. The six band members would gather like a tribunal, bouncing along the interstate from one major Wendlyn city to the next. Everyone would speak their side, and eventually, the problem gets solved. Rowan and Aelin always took the longest to get back into line.

After making it big, band meetings became something else, something more. They had a band meeting the day that a talent agent for Adarlan Records approached Aelin about the band; there was another band meeting called the day they landed their very own headline tour. Aelin knows the band called their own meeting after she took the Wyrd from Arobynn; it’s the only way they all knew to come to bother her, to keep an eye on her.

Rowan called a band meeting the day he realized he needed to leave the band a few weeks after finding out Lyria was pregnant, and Aelin called one when Adarlan proposed a contract to her as a solo artist. Lorcan called one to complain about his crush on Elide—that one didn’t go the way he planned.

“So,” Vaughan begins from the laptop screen, “what’s the crisis?”

Lorcan scoffs. “Aelin and Rowan are _fucking_.”

“I hate you.” Aelin’s palm collides with the back of his head.

“Oh,” Connall says, sounding utterly unsurprised. “About time.”

Fenrys grins like the cat who caught the canary. The blonde twin looks as if he has something smart to say of his own, but Rowan sends Fenrys a threatening frown from where he sits beside him. The twin wisely reconsiders.

“Yeah.” Vaughan nods. “I already knew that. Congrats.”

“W-what?” Lorcan exclaims. “How did you know?”

Aelin sips her wine. “Because I told him.”

Rowan cracks a silly smile at that, and Aelin returns it happily, glad to see that he wasn’t upset with her anymore. They weren’t done talking, but at least, Aelin understood his worries better.

They’d agreed recently to tell their friends about them quietly, but Aelin was purposefully ignoring Lorcan’s every attempt at getting her to admit to the relationship. It was having the desired outcome of outraging Lorcan.

“Hey, so,” Connall interrupts when his patience begins to wear thin. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I have a date in about an hour, so let’s get this show on the road, yeah?”

Fenrys looks shocked. “You have a date?”

“Here we go, again,” Rowan grumbles. The twins start to bicker.

Vaughan smiles from the video chat. “I’ve missed you assholes.”

The arguments continue. The twins pick at one another, while Lorcan whines to Aelin about being left out of the loop. Aelin decides to ignore the drummer, refilling her wine and toasting virtually with Vaughan, who has a bottle of his own. Rowan grumbles, rubbing irritably at his temples. It’s definitely a The Cadre Band Meeting.

“Adarlan Records offered Aelin ownership of The Cadre masters,” Rowan says, bringing the room to an immediate standstill. “On the condition that she renews her solo artist contract with them.”

Everyone forgets about their arguments, and they all stare at Rowan and digest this new information. Aelin swirls the wine in her glass casually, pretending not to notice as five pairs of eyes turn toward her.

“What?” she snaps when no one says anything. “Can’t a girl get drunk in her own living room?”

“ _He offered you the masters?_ ” Fenrys cries.

“That motherfucker. I’m going to kill him.” Lorcan’s eyes promise murder.

“I’m canceling my date,” Connall announces and pulls out his phone.

“Vetoed.” Vaughan gets to the point.

“Agreed.” Rowan’s expression is stern. “Vetoed.”

“Um, _excuse me_ ,” Aelin interjects, “this isn’t a band decision. It’s _my_ contract and—”

“Veto!” Fenrys chirps. He flashes her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ace.”

“If it’s about the band’s masters,” Connall explains, “that makes it a band issue. _Vetoed_.”

“But—”

Lorcan cuts off Aelin’s protest with a stomp. “Fuckin’ vetoed.”

Aelin shoots a frown to each of her meddling bandmates. Vaughan smiles in apology, and Lorcan shrugs indifferently. Connall remains perpetually unphased by Aelin, and Fenrys grins arrogantly at her, winking. Aelin guesses it’s probably unfair of her to ditch them now; they’ve placed their bets on Aelin’s help in launching their new label. To abandon them now would be cruel. Wrong.

Rowan is watching her openly when Aelin’s eyes land on him. She narrows her eyes at her meddlesome boyfriend. That was what he was, after all—her boyfriend. Rowan basically admitted to wanting to marry her. Someday. Aelin figured that qualified them as official.

“This is my career.” Aelin’s voice is firm. “If I want to re-sign with Adarlan, I can, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t if it means we’ll get The Cadre’s masters in return. I—They’re _our masters_.” She looks to Rowan, pleading her case. “It’s _our_ music, Rowan. How can I just pass that up?”

“Because,” Rowan sighs, “the cost is too high, Aelin. Do you think you’ll survive another decade with Havilliard Sr.?”

Aelin doesn’t have anything to say to that, nor does the rest of the room.

“I suppose we can record new masters in a year or two.” Fenrys looks thoughtful as he turns the idea over in his head. He’s been studying the in’s and out’s of recording contracts as of late, considering his new business venture. Sometimes, Fenrys liked to surprise them all with rare flashes of his intelligence. He wasn’t the oaf he pretended to be.

“Besides, why give that asshat another decade of your music—that he’ll own, as well—if we can just do that?” Fenrys asks.

“One giant _Fuck you_ ,” Connall thinks aloud, “I like it.”

“Sounds like the matter is settled then.” Vaughan adjusts the glasses sliding down his nose. “We record new masters for The Cadre when the restrictions lapse. Will it make us any money? Probably not. But I wouldn’t mind the performative aspect of it.”

“We don’t need money,” Lorcan interjects. He’s not wrong. “Let’s do it.”

“Aelin?” Rowan waits for her confirmation.

She releases a heavy sigh and nods. “I hate you guys.”

##  **Fenrys Moonbeam Shares A Photo, _Band Meeting!_**

Lorcan is the brave bandmate that seeks Aelin out on the back patio and interrupts her peace. The fearless drummer steals her lighter and a cigarette, flashes Aelin that annoying smirk of his, and then lights up.

Aelin scowls at him. She came outside to get some time alone; she should’ve known that one of them would come out to hover.

“I’m surprised you aren’t Rowan.” Aelin knows she sounds like a petulant child, but she just can’t help herself. “He seems hellbent on keeping an eye on me.”

Lorcan smiles at her. “We played rock, paper, scissors for the honor. It was very adult of us.”

“I don’t need company,” Aelin grumbles. “I came out here to be by myself.”

“Yeah, we figured.” The bastard has the nerve to laugh at the indignant look Aelin shoots him. “But we care about you, Ace. So, here I am.”

Aelin ignores him and takes a drag. She doesn’t want to talk things over anymore, and she doesn’t want to do so with Lorcan, of all people.

“I’m going to ask Elide to move in with me.” Lorcan flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette. He takes a seat beside her on the bench. “I already gave her a key, but, I dunno, I’d like to have her around more than just the weekends.”

“Lorcan Salvaterre,” Aelin jumps at the change of subject, “are you settling down?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, a blush rising on his cheeks. She can just barely make it out in the dark.

It makes Aelin smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“You, too, Ace.” Lorcan beams at her, an uncharacteristic display of affection. “I’m glad for you. Gods know that you’ve been through enough shit.”

It must be that the time of night has made her feel cuddly, Aelin decides as she leans into Lorcan’s side, or maybe it could be all of the wine. She rests her head on his shoulder, and Lor wraps an arm around her, giving her an unbearably tight squeeze.

They don’t say anything more, which Aelin thinks is nice. Somehow, Lorcan knew exactly what she needed, but Aelin will never tell him as much.

Eventually, Rowan comes looking for them, unable to wait any longer. The silver-haired man smiles softly at the sight of his friends, and he drops a blanket over their shoulders without comment. He makes a quick exit and leaves them to their bonding.

“That guy loves you. You know that?” Lorcan says,

Aelin can’t help her smile. “Yeah, I know.”

##  **Is The Cadre Getting Back Together?**

When Aelin and Lorcan can no longer feel their fingers or toes, they head back inside. Lorcan makes an excuse about needing to piss, but as he pulls out his phone, Aelin suspects that the drummer is off to make a check-in call to his girlfriend. She smiles at the thought.

Aelin finds Fenrys and Connall abusing her beautiful white piano, playing an overly competitive duet against one another. She yanks on their ears as she passes, and both twins howl in agony.

“That piano costs more than you two combined!” Aelin shouts over her shoulder. “Treat it with respect!”

She finds Rowan in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen island and catching up with Vaughan. Aelin approaches with a broad smile, finding herself in a much better mood than before; she wraps her arms around Rowan’s middle.

Rowan is in the middle of a sentence as Aelin wraps her arms around his waist. He kisses her hair without breaking his train of thought, and the moment just feels so natural, so perfect. Aelin has to tell him. And she will just as soon as all of their idiot friends leave.

“I feel like I’m seeing things.” Vaughan smiles at the couple. “But, I am ecstatic for you two.”

His video’s background has changed from his living room’s sleek gray walls to the walls of books holding up the ceiling in his study. Aelin’s been to his apartment in Varese once or twice, a pitstop while on tour. She wishes he lived closer, but Vaughan seems happy, so that’s enough.

“I’m still waiting for someone to pinch me—Ow! You fucking terror!” Rowan scowls at Aelin, and she giggles, pleased with herself. Aelin doesn’t know why, but she loves to irritate Rowan Whitethorn.

“Ah, that seems more like it,” Vaughan drawls. “Well, I think it’s time I signed off.” His smile turns sad. “I need to come to visit soon.”

“Yes, you do actually,” Aelin says, “I need my wine buddy back.”

Vaughan laughs at that and signs off with a promise to schedule another visit. Rowan’s hands are on Aelin as soon as the laptop is closed, and she laughs, enjoying his eagerness. He turns her around by the hips, and Aelin melts into his kiss.

“I missed you,” Aelin says between kisses, “I know how needy that makes me sound.” Another kiss. “But I did.”

Rowan’s fingers tangle in her hair. “I missed you, too.”

Aelin darts her tongue into his mouth, and Rowan groans, tugging on her hair to tilt her head back to kiss her better. Aelin keens, digging her fingers into the muscle of his back and clutching to him like he’s a lifeline.

They’re panting when they break apart. Rowan’s eyes are full of heat, and Aelin can feel the telltale signs of his arousal where their thighs press together. Warmth pools in her belly at the thought and she bites her lip, considering the odds of having her way with Rowan in this kitchen and not getting caught.

“We need to get rid of them.” Rowan echoes her thoughts.

Aelin grins. “I have an idea. Not that I think you’ll approve.”

Rowan laughs, but he willingly follows as Aelin leads him toward the living room. He smiles curiously at her, and Aelin winks before looking at her remaining bandmates. At last, the twins have retreated from the piano, joining Lorcan on the couch for a movie. Fleetfoot lays happily on their feet. They all look so comfortable and happy that Aelin is loath to interrupt them. Almost, she corrects, as the men smile slyly at their clasped hands. Children. All of them.

“We are going upstairs to have sex now,” Aelin announces. “And this one can get pretty loud,” she adds, gesturing over her shoulder at Rowan, “so get the hell out if you don’t want to hear it.”

Rowan chokes on the air in his throat, caught off guard by his outspoken girlfriend.

“Oh!” Fenrys claps his hands together, smiling like the devil. “ _Kinky._ ”

Connall grimaces at his brother. “You’re disgusting.”

Still, their bandmates take the hint. The men shut off the television and start to rise. Aelin wiggles her fingers at them, dragging the flustered Rowan after her. Lorcan flashes her a grin.

“You kids have fun,” he yells up the stairs. “Use protection!”

##  **Spotted: Lorcan Salvaterre Leaving Galathynius Residence with the Moonbeam Brothers.**

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Rowan’s mouth is on Aelin’s. She opens her mouth to his with a sigh, moaning as his tongue tastes hers. Aelin threads her fingers into his hair, and they stand there, making out in the middle of her bedroom. Fuck, she really likes kissing Rowan.

Aelin drags Rowan with her toward the bed. They both laugh when the back of her knees hit the bed, and Aelin falls backward in her eagerness. She fights back the blush that threatens her, but Rowan smiles at her, his face soft and vulnerable.

“I love you.” Rowan crawls after her.

Aelin’s breath leaves her in a rush. Her mind scrambles to keep up with his declaration; her boyfriend seems to be very fond of spilling great truths while Aelin is too aroused to focus properly. And he stole her thunder. How dare he say it first?

“I just wanted to get that out there, in case it wasn’t obvious or whatever.” Rowan presses his lips to hers, his fingers brushing along her cheeks. Instinctively, Aelin clutches him closer. “Because I won’t be able to keep it to myself once I’m inside you, and that just seems— _wrong_.”

“Shit,” Aelin breathes, running her hands up his chest to cup his face. She pulls him down to her and kisses him fiercely. Tears prick her eyes, and she struggles to blink them back before Rowan notices.

“Aelin,” he says, alarmed. “I—”

“They’re good tears.” Aelin laughs weakly. “I promise. You know I cry all of the time.”

Rowan’s face relaxes at her proclamation. He gingerly wipes the tears away, kissing after them. Aelin nuzzles his cheek with her nose, urging him to kiss her again; they sink into the embrace, forgetting about her tears for a little while.

“Baby,” he breathes into her skin. It makes her shiver with want. “My baby.”

Aelin sucks in a sharp breath. Her eyes prick with tears again, and she struggles to blink them back in time. Rowan hesitates above her, stopping shy of settling between her thighs like Aelin so badly wants him to.

“Shit.” A tear escapes Aelin and rolls down her cheek. Rowan swipes it away quickly, his eyes filled with alarm. She frowns. “I’m such a basket case.”

“Good tears?” Rowan looks at a loss.

“Very good,” she promises. Aelin shifts onto her knees to help him remove his shirt; Rowan obliges, still looking confused. At the sight of his ruffled hair, Aelin giggles and smoothes it back, earning a silly smile.

“Because”—Aelin’s voice trembles at the weight of the moment and the emotions running through her—“I love you, too.”

Rowan’s smile is blinding. “Yeah?”

His lips are on hers before Aelin can answer. The force of his movement sends them falling back onto the bed, and Aelin squeals as Rowan peppers her with kisses. Her lips, her cheeks, her nose—no part of her face is left untouched.

Aelin struggles to speak through the laughter and kisses, “Yes. Always have.”

The mood sobers. Rowan’s face turns serious with the little addition. Aelin knows where his mind is trying to take him, the guilt, and self-hate; she hopes he won’t always hold their past against himself.

“Hey. None of that.” Aelin pulls Rowan’s face to hers to kiss away the negative thoughts. It takes him a moment to melt into the kiss, sigh, and open his mouth to hers. She brushes her fingers through his hair and down his back’s muscles, relishing as Rowan relaxes beneath her touch.

“I love you,” she says as they part.

Rowan smiles softly, presses another kiss to her lips. “I love you, too.”

##  **_Dear Happy_ —Aelin Galathynius Plays For Fans From Her Living Room!**


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for smut/nsfw content. i’m a sucker for this rowaelin, and we’re going to pick back up where we left off, so things start off a little... naughty? lmao, enjoy.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Adds International Dates to** _ **Dear Society**_ **Tour.**

Rowan and Aelin share kisses and “ _I love you’s”_ in the dark. Aelin can feel his smile as he kisses her, tickling her sides with his gentle fingers, and she cups the back of his to keep him close, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him closer and running a hand up and down his back.

The kissing soon turns heated, and Aelin moans when Rowan’s kisses against her neck turn hot and heavy. She threads her fingers into his silver-blonde hair and scratches her nails against the scalp of his head; Rowan grunts his approval, tugs gently at the skin of her neck with his teeth.

“I love you,” she whispers into his lips. 

Rowan smiles and kisses her deeply. “I love you, too, baby.”

Aelin reaches for the clasp of his jeans as they kiss. Rowan catches on to her intentions, and he rolls them over, unpinning her from the mattress to remove her shirt. Aelin abandons his loose jeans to reach behind her back and undo her bra while sitting in his lap.

Rowan’s mouth is on her immediately, sucking a nipple into his mouth and massaging the other with his free hand. Aelin gasps at the sudden sensations; she tangles her fingers into his hair and arches her back towards him. Aelin grinds her hips down into his, and they both groan at the feeling. She does it again.

“Take this off,” Aelin orders and pulls at his shirt.

Rowan laughs, but he holds his hands above his head to help her out. Aelin tosses his shirt over her shoulder before running her hands down his chest; her lips trails after her fingertips to make him groan. Rowan tugs gently at the hair tie holding her ponytail together to free her hair and run his fingers through it.

Aelin savors the groan that escapes Rowan’s throat when her lips trail lower. Her fingers wrap around the waist of his jeans to pull them lower; her lips follow. Rowan swears and leans onto his elbows to watch her with dark eyes, biting his lip to muffle himself as Aelin takes his cock in her hands. She grins at him, her only warning before wrapping her lips around him.

“Fuck!” Rowan groans deeply, falling back onto the mattress. His fingers curl into the bedsheets.

Aelin bobs her head, stroking the base of his cock with one hand. She hasn’t had a lot of time to explore this with Rowan; he’s too dominant, in the best of ways, in the bedroom. Aelin’s excited to get the chance to play with him.

Just like she warned the band, Rowan isn’t shy about making some noise in bed. “Oh _gods_ ,” he breathes before wrapping her hair around his wrist to keep it out of the way. His green eyes are nearly black when Aelin looks at him, the irises nothing more than thin circles of green; his praises her when their gazes meet. “That’s good, Aelin.”

The husky, low way Rowan says her name makes Aelin groan around his cock. It’s embarrassing how wet she is already, having done little more than make out with her boyfriend before getting on her knees for him. Rowan turns Aelin on in a way she’s never quite experienced before; he doesn’t have to do much to get her hot and bothered.

“ _Oh, fuck_.” Rowan sucks in a sharp breath; his hips jerk when the head of his cock bumps against the back of her throat. Aelin gags on him, making him grunt. “You look so good like this, baby.”

Aelin moans, and her body clenches around nothing at the nickname. Rowan’s interest peaks.

“Do you like that, Ae?” Rowan asks, petting back her hair. Aelin looks up at him from under her lashes. “You like to be called baby?”

With his cock in her mouth, Aelin can’t respond. She lets her eyes say it for her. _Yes, I do._

_Noted._ Rowan smiles at her. Then he speaks aloud, “I love you, baby.”

Aelin moans around his cock, swallowing him until he hits the back of her throat again. Rowan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and his head tilts toward the ceiling. His hips ghost a rocking motion into her mouth. She can tell he’s being shy with her, that he wants to let loose; Aelin just has to figure out how to get him to do so.

“That’s so good,” Rowan groans, “ _baby_.”

Aelin relaxes her throat and waits. Slowly, Rowan thrusts his hips in Aelin’s mouth; his fingers bury themselves in her hair. Aelin moans when he pulls her hair, watching Rowan’s face from under her lashes. With his mouth parted and his eyes dark like that as he watches her, Rowan looks like something out of Aelin’s very private dreams.

“ _Oh_ ,” Rowan groans. He starts to move her head up and down by the grip he has on her hair. “Fuck, Aelin! Good girl.”

Her body aches with need as Rowan fucks into her mouth. When she can’t help herself any longer, Aelin’s hand slides down her body, and Rowan watches, groans when her fingers disappear between her legs. His hips loose their rhythm.

“ _Baby_ ,” he gasps, his eyes torn between watching Aelin touch herself and his dick in her mouth, “do you like this, too? Does it get you off?”

“Mhm,” Aelin hums, rubbing her fingers around her clit. It’s enough to take the edge off of what she’s feeling. Right now, Aelin just wants to get Rowan off.

“Fuck.” Rowan’s hips rock into her mouth harder, and Aelin focuses on relaxing. Her muscles protest at her position, kneeling over Rowan’s lap in the bed, but Aelin is too proud to give up. Rowan coming undone like this has to be the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

Rowan arches his neck. The words tumbling from his lips are a combination of swear words and Aelin and _baby._ Aelin can tell he’s close; she reaches for his balls, massaging them, and scratches her nails along the inside of his thigh.

“Baby,” he gasps. “Oh! Aelin, ah. You’re going to make me come.”

Aelin moans and takes him as deeply as she can. A long moan falls from Rowan’s lips, and his hips jerk. She runs her tongue along the bottom of his cock, and Rowan hisses. His nails scratch her scalp, and Aelin moans again, teasing him with the vibrations in her throat.

“Aelin—fuck.” He taps on her shoulder in warning, but Aelin swats away his hand. He starts to sound a little crazy, desperate. “You want me to come in your mouth? Is that what you want?”

Another moan. It pushes Rowan over the edge, and he chants her name as he comes into her mouth. It’s not Aelin’s favorite taste, but it’s Rowan, and she does like the look on his face as Rowan watches her swallow. The murmuring is pretty fucking hot, too. _Baby, baby, baby._

##  **The** _ **Dear Society**_ **Tour Will Kick Off in Varese.**

“For the record,” Aelin begins, rolling onto her stomach to face Rowan as he catches his breath, “you’re my boyfriend now.” 

She smacks a kiss to his belly, and he laughs heartily, patting lamely at the top of her head. He’s still a little dazed from the orgasm, but it makes Aelin feel silly with pride to see him so satisfied. That was her doing; Aelin made him look like that.

“And I’m going to start referring to you as such.” A sly smile. “Just a heads up.”

“That’s horrible news.” Rowan grins at her, a silly happy expression that makes Aelin feel as if she could burst. He smooths back her wild hair, grunting when she nips his fingers playfully. “What will my other girlfriends think?”

Aelin scoffs at him, swatting at him. She doesn’t find that joke nearly as funny as he does. Rowan catches her wrist and holds it hostage, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before letting it go. A sneaky way for him to earn immediate forgiveness. Aelin bites her lip to keep from smiling at him; she loves this playful side of him. It doesn’t come out often enough.

“They’ll need to step aside,” Aelin declares. She crawls up the bed to lay at his side and meets his lips with hers. “Because you’re mine now.”

“Now, I like the sound of that.” Rowan kisses her again, grinning into it. Aelin bumps her nose against his, and he chuckles. “I could get used to hearing it.”

Aelin kisses him again, humming into his mouth. “You better. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.”

Rowan kisses the top of her head as Aelin nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck. She ignores the ache in her core, still feeling hot and bothered from getting Rowan off; Aelin doesn’t mind that she didn’t get to come. It was worth it to turn Rowan into a puddle of mush.

She cuddles into Rowan’s side and tries not to fidget, but the heat of Rowan’s body and the smell of his skin reminds her of what she’s craving, what she wants more of. Aelin can’t help but rub her hands along his chest and wiggle her hips restlessly, trying to settle down and get comfortable.

Rowan notices; he always notices.

“Baby,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to her temple. Rowan turns to face her and kisses her nose. Aelin pouts at him, accepting a kiss to her lips next.

He chuckles darkly. “Let me take care of you.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Holds Hands With Thea Whitethorn During Coffee Run.**

Rowan looks pale as the car pulls down the drive of Aelin’s childhood home. Today is the day, and Aelin isn’t sure that her boyfriend will survive the ordeal of telling her parents about their relationship. Aelin can’t believe how nervous he is, but Rowan would deny it were she to mention it.

“Yay!” Thea claps, vibrating in her car seat when she realizes where they are.

This isn’t the little girl’s first trip to the Galathynius Estate; Rowan admitted that Aelin’s parents often stole Thea from him and took her to the estate on weekends. Despite promises that they just needed a grandkid of their own, Aelin and Rowan both knew it was their way of trying to help a newly widowed single father.

“I know it’s a paparazzi photo,” Aelin says, turning her phone so that Rowan can see it, “but that’s a pretty cute photo of me and Thee, don’t you think?”

“Aelin.” Rowan frowns at her, ignoring the photo. “I thought you said you were going to start ignoring that shit.”

“Red word!” Thea says with a gasp. “Red word, Daddy!!”

“Yeah!” Aelin snickers. “Red Word, Daddy!”

Rowan flicks Aelin’s nose, and Thea sucks in a breath. They both know what she’s going to say before the little girl says it, “No hitting!”

Aelin laughs as Rowan drops his head back onto the seat in dismay, betrayed by his daughter. Thea giggles at his dramatics, swinging her legs from her seat, and Ress and Brullo laugh from the front seat as they drive.

Rowan frowns at Aelin. “You’ve turned my own daughter against me!”

“I did no such thing!” Aelin pecks a kiss to his pouty frown. “This is your fault. You’ve raised a snitch.”

“Don’t call my daughter that,” Rowan says through his laughter. He pinches her in the side, and Aelin squeals, attempting and failing to wiggle away from him because of the seatbelt keeping her strapped in beside him. Thea laughs at them, clapping.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Aelin pleads. Rowan does no such thing, continuing to tickle her ruthlessly. “Babe,” Aelin wheezes. Tears run down her face from the laughter; Aelin is incredibly ticklish. “You’re going to make me pee my pants.”

Thea eyes go wide. “Oh, no!”

Rowan barks a laugh at his daughter’s horror, but it persuades him to end Aelin’s torment. He stops tickling her, and Aelin leans heavily against the door, gasping for air. Rowan flashes her one of his brilliant smiles, and then he leans forward toward Thea, where she sits in the backward-facing chair.

“ _Oh no!_ ” the father mocks his daughter, reaching for Thea’s sides to tickle her. Her very green eyes are wide with horror, anticipating her father’s next move. She squeals when Rowan pinches her sides, too.

Aelin leans against the door and smiles at her family. The thought strikes her with surprise, but it also makes her smile widely, especially as Thea’s sweet peals of laughter fill the cabin of the sprinter van. _Her family_ —that’s what Rowan and Thea were.

Rowan meets Aelin’s gaze as he takes mercy on his daughter. Thea’s grin stretches across the entirety of her face; her pale cheeks flushed from laughter. Aelin’s smile draws Rowan in; he leans into her side, dropping his hand onto her thigh and his chin on her shoulder.

He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “What are you smiling about?”

“I’m just happy,” she tells him softly. Aelin kisses his forehead in response, earning another brilliant Rowan Smile.

##  **The** _ **Dear Society Tour**_ **Announces Opening Act, Sam Cortland!**

Evalin answers the door as they unload. Aelin waves at her mother in greeting as she lets Fleetfoot off the leash. The dog shoots off across the property; Fleetfoot is gone from sight in a flash. Aelin frowns at the dog, feeling guilty once again about her lack of yard.

Rowan is setting Thea onto her feet when the toddler notices Aelin’s mother. She lets out an earsplitting scream that sounds suspiciously like _Ev-wen_. Evalin laughs, exclaiming, “Thea!”

Aelin smiles and watches the two reunite. Rowan sweeps his hand down the center of her back, an idle gesture of affection; Aelin knows that the little motion doesn’t go unnoticed by her sharp-eyed mother before she disappears into the house with Thea.

“Are you nervous?” Rowan asks. His green eyes shine with concern.

Aelin laughs softly and tugs at the collar of his shirt. “No, but I think you are.”

“Are you mad?” is his response.

She’s surprised by the question, stopping and turning to face him fully. They’re standing at the door, and Rowan looks positively ill. Aelin reaches for him, resting her hands on his waist and pulling him close. “Why would I be mad?”

Rowan shrugs in response, clearly uncomfortable with himself. Aelin shifts her weight to her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips; she smiles as he catches her, cupping her face to kiss her better. They part quickly, afraid to be caught red-handed by her parents, and Aelin squeezes his sides.

“Time to face them,” she teases. Rowan grunts unhappily.

Aelin is laughing as they enter the giant house. Rowan doesn’t hide his continuous surprise at the enormity of her childhood home; if Aelin didn’t know him better, she would expect him to have grown used to it by now, having spent many a Cadre rehearsal in the “garage.” But Rowan was a regular guy, and he’d always be awkward with the displays of wealth.

“Ah! I found them, honey,” Aelin’s father calls out into the house. He smiles widely at the sight of the pair, and Aelin can see the knowing spark in her father’s blue eyes. “Took you two long enough!”

Rowan looks as if he’s seen his death. Aelin fights the need to laugh at her horrified boyfriend; she doesn’t think that she’s ever seen Rowan so scared of her father. The two men have always been close, but then again, Rowan wasn’t sleeping with Aelin the last time he saw Rhoe.

“Thanks for inviting Thea and me,” Rowan says. He flinches adorably when Rhoe claps him on the back like old friends. Aelin trails after them into the great kitchen, grinning at their backs. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

“It seemed like the only way to get Aelin out here to visit us,” Evalin tells them seriously. “You three seem to be attached at the hip these days.”

Aelin’s mother has already put Thea to work in the kitchen. The toddler sits on the counter, armed with a batter-covered spoon and kicking the cabinets. Aelin has a feeling that Thea is supposed to be helping mix whatever is in the bowl beside her, but instead, the little girl is licking the spoon off.

Rowan meets Aelin’s gaze, pleading for mercy. Cruel as ever, Aelin wiggles her brows at Rowan, rejoicing in the panic in his green eyes. It’s clear that her parents are already in the loop, at least unofficially. Rowan coughs uncomfortably, and Aelin sighs. Time to put him out of his misery.

“Aelin and Daddy have sleepovers!” Thea announces to the room. The adults go very still; the only sound in the kitchen is Thea’s happy giggles. The little girl adds, “We make breakfast!”

Rhoe and Evalin both look at Aelin, then Rowan. Her boyfriend seems as if he would like the earth to open up and swallow him whole. For some reason, it makes Aelin laugh; she wraps her arms around Rowan as she cackles, smiling at Thea and her bowl of cake batter.

“Well done, Potato.” Aelin struggles to catch her breath. “You ripped that bandaid right off, didn’t you?”

“Welcome!” Thea proclaims, remembering her manners. The little girl thrusts the spoon back into the cake batter, scooping some more into mouth. She’s nothing more than a girl on a mission, oblivious to the bombshell she’s just dropped.

Aelin checks Rowan’s reaction. His arms hang limply at his sides, and he watches Aelin’s parents, waiting for their reactions. When she looks at her parents, her mother looks inclined to burst into tears, while her father’s smile is too big for his face.

“Uh.” Rowan coughs and looks to Aelin for guidance.

“Parental unit.” She smiles at her parents and hugs Rowan close. They both roll their eyes at Aelin’s choice of title. “Rowan’s my boyfriend now. Be nice to him; he’s petrified of you.”

Evalin laughs softly at that. “Why on earth would you be afraid of us?”

“This is fantastic news!” Rhoe approaches them, still smiling, and Aelin releases Rowan just in time for her father to clasp him by the shoulders. “You must come with me to the study.”

Aelin laughs at the horrified look in Rowan’s green eyes; she smiles at him, a mockery of reassurance. Then Aelin’s father flings an arm around Rowan to guide him away from the kitchen. “I can tell you all my best threats over a glass of bourbon.”

Quickly, Rhoe ushers Rowan out of the room. Aelin snickers as she turns around, joining Thea at the counter. The little girl holds out her the chocolate-covered spoon for Aelin to taste, and Aelin laughs brightly before giving it a lick.

“Thanks, kiddo,” she tells her.

“You are welcome!” Thea quickly reclaims the mixing utensil for herself.

Feeling her mother’s eyes on her, Aelin glances up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yet, Evalin looks to be on the verge of tears. “I’m just— _thrilled_.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Dinner Picture—** _ **Mom’s Famous Cake!**_

Dinner happens without much fuss. Evalin and Rhoe happily dote on Thea, and the toddler soaks up the spotlight, full of cheer and sugar. Rowan looks torn between being right at home amongst Aelin’s family and wanting to bolt as soon as possible.

When it’s time for dessert, Thea rushes to help Evalin bring out the cake. Rowan nearly jumps out of his skin when Aelin rests her hand on his thigh underneath the table, and Aelin resists the urge to laugh at his nervousness. She loves the silly, nervous fool. 

Rowan relaxes into the touch eventually, and after an overfilled glass of wine, he even begins to lean into her side, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her tucked in close. It’s a struggle not to smile goofily. Rowan isn’t one for public displays of affection, but it seemed that enough wine lessened his hesitation.

“Candles!” Thea shouts, smiling at the chocolate cake. The room laughs.

“No candles tonight, Thee.” Rowan ruffles his little girl’s hair, and she shoots him a menacing glare. He barks a laugh. “It’s nobody’s birthday.”

Aelin rests her chin on Rowan’s shoulder. “Not yet, anyway.” She leans around him to look at Thea and smiles conspiratorially. “Who’s birthday is coming up, Potato?”

“Daddy!” Thea claps. “Candles!”

The adults laugh at the little girl’s excitement. Rowan frowns at Aelin, communicating his unhappiness with the reminder of his imminent birthday. It’s a big one. Thirty. Rowan is trying very hard to forget all about it.

Evalin perks up at that. “I’ll have to make you a birthday cake, Rowan.”

Rowan looks surprised and a little uncomfortable. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, it absolutely is necessary.” Aelin sends her boyfriend a severe look. “We _definitely_ need my mother’s birthday cake. It’s even better than this one.”

She gestures at the double chocolate cake in front of them. Evalin has always been a splendid baker, something that Aelin is very grateful for with her giant sweet tooth. The cake Evalin typically made for birthdays was the best cake _ever_.

“So demanding,” Rowan says, smirking at Aelin. He turns to Evalin. “But if it’s too much trouble—”

“We’re retired, boy,” Rhoe interrupts. “We need something to do to keep us young.”

“We can throw you a nice little dinner.” Evalin rests a hand on her husband’s arm, and they share a look, likely already planning a shindig for their adopted son. “Fireheart, arrange it in your schedule.”

“Done!” Aelin grabs her phone and starts to text Essar. She never turns done an opportunity for some food or celebrating Rowan.

##  **Donate to Win a VIP Package and Meet Aelin Galathynius Backstage!**

Rowan wakes Aelin up early the next morning with gentle kisses across her bare shoulder. She mumbles a protest and snuggles deeper into the covers, hiding her face from Rowan’s assault. He chuckles softly, squeezing her waist with the arm wrapped around her.

“Baby,” he murmurs into her skin, “we gotta get up if you’re going to be on time for your rehearsals.”

“Rockstars are always late,” Aelin says before pressing her face into the pillow. “Sleep is more important than being on time.”

Rowan’s fingers skate across her sides, tickling her softly. His lips meet the crook of her neck, causing her to wiggle in protest. It’s very unfair when he does that; Aelin can’t help but melt into Rowan’s warm frame when he touches her in such a manner.

Aelin turns in his embrace, searching for his lips without opening her eyes. Rowan’s breath tickles her face as he laughs, and he bumps her nose with his once playfully before covering her mouth with his. Aelin snakes her hands around his neck, and Rowan’s hands slide underneath her body as they kiss.

She sighs as they part, and Aelin finally opens her eyes to drink in the sight of her well-kissed boyfriend. Rowan smiles softly before pressing another kiss to her lips; Aelin quickly deepens the kiss, scratching her nails lightly down his back.

“Baby,” Aelin whimpers and nuzzles him. Her underlying meaning is obvious. Rowan groans softly in response, kisses her neck. She shifts underneath him, making space for Rowan between her thighs.

Rowan’s hand slides between them, anyway. He smiles as Aelin sucks in a breath. “You didn’t get enough of me last night?”

“Nope.” Aelin bites her lip as Rowan’s fingers work to get her ready for him. They’re both still naked from the night before, which makes it easier for Aelin to direct Rowan’s lips to where she wants them now. Her breasts.

He smirks at her. “You’re going to make us late.”

“Not if you work faster,” Aelin tells him.

Rowan laughs loudly at that, but his eyes light up at the presented challenge. He kisses his way down her body, smiling into Aelin’s skin as she wreathes beneath him. Her hips jerk upward when Rowan’s lips reach the apex of her thighs. They both struggle to keep quiet. Aelin can feel each of Rowan’s muffled groans against her body, and she bites her lip so hard it threatens to bleed.

Aelin would be very happy to let him stay down there forever, but Rowan’s words return to her. Time is working against them, and they don’t have nearly enough time to play. She wraps her hands around his head and pulls him back up to her face for a kiss. The taste of herself on Rowan’s lips makes Aelin moan into his mouth. She has to have him. Now.

Her boyfriend looks a little confused when she pushes him away, but Rowan’s eyes turn heated as she rolls onto her knees. Aelin wiggles her hips at him, teasing him. Rowan runs his hands down the curve of her hips. 

“Is this how you want it, Aelin?”

“Nah,” Aelin says, “I just thought you’d like a good look at my ass.”

A snort. “You’re such a fucking smartass.”

Aelin isn’t ready nor expecting it when Rowan spanks her. Aelin inhales sharply and whips her head around to look at Rowan in shock. That’s one way to wake her up. Rowan looks just as surprised as her.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I, uh—”

“Fucking _finally_.” Aelin sighs in relief. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get you to do that for _weeks_.”

“Really?” Rowan looks confused, pinching his brow at her and tilting his head to the side. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“I—” Aelin frowns over her shoulder at him. “Are we really going to unpack this right _now_?”

They both take in the current situation and grin at each other. Aelin shakes her hips at him, reminding him of the task at hand. Rowan snorts at her, but he takes the hint and grips her hips, lining himself up with her entrance.

“Oh, gods,” Rowan groans as he enters her. “You feel so good, baby.”

Aelin digs her fingers into the bed to anchor herself as he starts to push into her, quick and shallow thrusts that make her head spin. Rowan gives her another slap, light, and testing, and Aelin has to bite her lip to keep in the moan of approval that comes. She’ll have a bloody lip by the end of this, but Aelin guesses that that is what she gets for having sex in her parents’ house.

“Fuck!” Rowan swears under his breath. It pleases Aelin that being quiet is as big a challenge for him as it is for her; she could probably get off on the sounds he makes alone. Rowan presses his face into the crook of her neck to muffle himself. “Oh! Fuck, fuck.”

“Ssh, baby,” Aelin rasps. She reaches overhead to cup the back of his head. “Quiet, remember?”

Rowan’s hips snap into hers, quick and eager. One of his arms locks around her waist, the other supporting his weight to keep from crushing her. Aelin gasps when his cock brushes against her front wall, causing her body to clench around him.

Rowan’s teeth scrape at the back of her shoulder. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come.”

“Good,” she breathes. Aelin presses a hand against the headboard to support herself as Rowan’s thrusting gets rougher, and she laughs when it causes the head of the bed to hit the wall. Rowan notices; he snatches her hand away from the furniture and pins it to the mattress.

“Oh, shit,” Aelin gasps. Rowan’s everywhere all at once. His cock continues to hit that sweet spot inside of her, threatening to make her snap. “Fuck! _Rowan._ ”

The noises spilling from Aelin borders on being just too loud. Rowan covers her mouth with his hand, groaning into the shell of her ear; he leans back onto his heels and takes Aelin with him so that she sits in his lap. She cries out at the change of angle, but the palm of Rowan’s hand muffles the sound.

Rowan fucks into her like that, quick and hard. One of his hands slips between her legs to rub at her clit. Aelin relies on him to muffle her cries of pleasure, and his teeth buried in her skin keeps Rowan’s grunts inaudible. Aelin’s heart races in her ears; everything sounds so far away, even her own breathing. The tension builds to its apex, and Aelin breaks, her body trembling.

Their mouths meet for a deep kiss as Rowan falls apart after her. Aelin hums into his mouth, and she grinds her hips down onto him, prolonging both of their orgasms. Rowan’s hips stutter and eventually still, but he doesn’t let go of her, still kissing her thoroughly.

“Mhm,” Aelin mumbles her praise against Rowan’s lips. “That was so good, baby.”

Rowan’s nose tickles the skin of her neck, causing Aelin to shiver. “We’ll have to try that again sometime.” Aelin savors the gravelly sound of his voice as he speaks into her skin. “When we’re somewhere that I can let you scream.”

“Shit.” Aelin’s blood heats at the prospect. “I’d like that.”

They snuggle in bed afterward, and Aelin savors having Rowan curled around her. They’re definitely going to be late getting back to Doranelle, but Aelin can’t bring herself to fuss about it. She plans to soak up every last second that she has with Rowan. She flies out to her first tour stop soon; the tour was about to kick off.

“Aelin?” The vulnerability in Rowan’s quiet voice alarms Aelin, and she turns in his arms, giving extra attention to whatever he has to say. Aelin meets his eye, and Rowan smiles shyly at her. “Not to get all sappy after sex, but—”

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin interrupts, “I’ve never met someone who gets as mushy as you do after an orgasm.” She grins wickedly. “I’m just that awesome, I guess.”

Aelin breaks into giggles when Rowan pinches her sides impatiently. They wrestle each other, each smiling at the other until Rowan gives in and cups Aelin’s face in his hands. Her heart squeezes at the look in his eyes.

“You’re making me nervous,” she admits.

Rowan kisses her gently. “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Aelin. I just wanted you to know that.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Shares Selfie,** _ **Last Music Rehearsal!**_


	52. Chapter 52

##  **Tonight! Aelin Galathynius Live In Varese!**

Lorcan is doing push-ups in the green room when Aelin arrives, and for a moment, she’s thrown back into time five years prior, to pre-show band rituals and five testosterone-filled men working out and insulting each other while Aelin cursed her nervous bladder.

“So?” Aelin rests a foot on Lorcan’s back. He grunts, but the pressure doesn’t slow him down. Aelin finds his athletic skill utterly disgusting. “Did you pop the question yet or what?”

“Stop making it sound like I’m proposing! Shit!” Lorcan grunts the words out between breaths. “Why are you acting as if you two haven’t already discussed it during one of your Girls Nights?”

Aelin rolls her eyes at him. “Lor, that reeks of bitterness.” She presses down with her toes a little, just because; Lorcan growls. She asks, “Do you want to come to Girls Night, Lor? Are you feeling left out?”

“To listen to you and my ex _and_ my girlfriend gossip about your sexual exploits with Rowan?” the drummer grumbles. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

“We could always talk about _your_ sexual exploits with Rowan,” Aelin suggests. Lorcan flashes her a salacious grin. The men’s threesomes were no secret during their touring days, early before Rowan met Lyria.

Aelin reconsiders the suggestion with a grimace. “Actually, I’m going to rescind that offer. It seems like a dangerous plan for my mental health.”

Lorcan laughs; it comes out more of a grunt than anything. “That sounds awfully _jealous_ of you, Ace.”

“You _wish_ I was jealous.” She presses her foot down more. Lorcan swears. Essar enters the room then, looking utterly unsurprised about their position. The pop star flashes a smile at her assistant, foot still resting on Lor’s back.

“Rowan isn’t all we talk about,” Aelin informs the drummer. “Sometimes we talk about how you let El go down on you in a coat closet.”

“What?” Lorcan rolls onto his back suddenly. Aelin cackles and just manages to keep herself from falling as her footrest disappears. “She told you _that_?”

Essar interrupts, sensing the brewing argument. “Ae, the crew is getting nervous because they can’t find you.”

Aelin nods at the assistant; she’s not too worried about worrying them. She’s the show, after all; they can’t start without her. Aelin snickers at Lorcan, lying on the floor and gaping at her.

“I’ve finally unlocked the secret to getting sweet Elide to gossip with me,” Aelin tells him ominously.

“If you think Ellie is sweet,” Lorcan scoffs, “then you don’t know that woman at all.” For some reason, his words make Aelin’s chest warm. She’s happy for Lorcan, the silly bastard.

“It’s wine,” Aelin calls over her shoulder, following after Essar. The assistant smiles at the memory of a wine drunk Elide, sharing her naughty “how we got together story” with the two of them. “It’s an image that I’ll _never_ be able to get out of my head—ugh!”

“You’re welcome!” Lorcan barks a laugh, too arrogant to feel much shame. “Maybe Elide can give you some tips!”

“I _do not_ need to know how you like it, Lorcan Salvaterre!” She slams the door behind them, a dramatic entrance ruined by Lor’s laughter.

On the way to the stage, Aelin dials Rowan, but her video call goes unanswered, much to Aelin’s disappointment. She frowns at the “unavailable” message on her screen; Aelin could so use one of Rowan’s classic “kick ass and don’t forget your own lyrics” pep talks. She’s nervous and excited and nauseous.

It’s been hell for the two of them, trying to catch each other. Rowan was busy with a new project while wrangling Thea, and Aelin spent the last week here in Varese, bouncing from final fittings to final dress rehearsals to final meetings. It was quite the week, but Aelin missed Rowan. Missed Thea.

“Miss Galathynius,” Brullo says, forever her shadow, “why the frown?”

Aelin sighs. She knows it’s silly to be so sad. She’ll be with them soon enough, and Rowan _always_ calls back. It just—it sucks.

“I miss my boyfriend,” she tells Brullo. The man smiles softly, a rarity for him. He’s usually heckling her along with everyone else. “I know, I know. It’s silly, but—I miss him.”

“That’s understandable.” Brullo doesn’t say anything more. Aelin doesn’t expect him too.

A text chimes through. It’s Rowan.

 **Hey. I’m working late tonight,** he tells her. Aelin’s heart falls. **I’ll call you first thing in the morning. Break a leg. You’ll do great, Aelin.**

The message makes her happy and sad at the same time. Aelin wonders what could have him working so late; Rowan makes a point not to do so with Thea around. So it must be important.

 **Thanks.** Aelin replies as she waits for the rest of the group for the pre-show huddle. **I wish you were here.** Her fingers hover above the keyboard. She adds **I miss you, baby.**

 **Baby.** Rowan’s response is instant. It’s nothing more than a word, but Aelin can hear the meaning behind it, can imagine his voice. **I love you, baby.**

##  **Aelin Galathynius’s Opening Act—Sam Cortland.**

Sam Cortland’s voice echoes through the stadium. Aelin is trying very hard not to listen to whatever he’s saying about her, but—Her fucking ex-boyfriend is introducing her on the opening night of her concert. Who’s great idea was this? Oh, right. Lorcan Salvaterre. 

Aelin has no idea what the media is saying about her decision to bring Sam on tour with her, but she knows it can’t be good. She’s too afraid to check for herself to find out, and Essar is under strict orders to reprimand Aelin for googling herself. That’s Rowan’s doing.

“Thank you all for being so great!” Sam shouts. “Now, allow me to get out of the way so we can meet the woman of the hour!” That alone is enough to set the audience into a frenzy. “Thank you! Enjoy!”

The stage dims as Sam rushes off the stage. Crew members dart around to reset the stage for Aelin’s show, and Aelin tries to stay out of the way of their bustling. It helps that everyone is low-key afraid of her; they avoid her more than she can avoid them.

Sam spares her a smile when he sees her. Aelin grins, offering her fist, and Sam laughs at the old tradition before bumping his knuckles to hers. A fist bump to tap in or out, they always did it before switching places during the _Hell of a Night_ tour.

“So, late shot for a pee break,” he teases. Aelin promptly punches him in the arm.

“I don’t like you,” she hisses. Sam merely smiles, trying to hide it as he rubs his arm. In the background, Lorcan and Elide begin to lead the band into the intro music. “Get off my stage.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam salutes Aelin, still smiling. He leaves without any more snark.

And suddenly, it’s Aelin’s turn.

That very first moment on stage, there’s nothing else like it, Aelin thinks. She loves it, that first rush of adrenaline when the crowd recognizes her shadowed figure and screams her name. Aelin knows that it’s super egotistical of her, but she’s an entertainer. Besides, she’s never claimed to be modest.

“ _Good evening, Varese!_ ” Aelin smiles into the stage lights as the crowd cheers. This is it, she thinks. This is why she puts up with all of the bullshit and stress. Her fans. Gods, she fucking loves them to pieces. “Welcome! To the _first_ night of the Dear. Society. Tour!”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Kicks Off Her Dear Society Tour!**

She lied. There’s one thing that might be better than making a grand entrance, Aelin thinks as she takes a final lap around the stage, touching hands with fans and sharing their elated smiles. This right here. This is the good shit, she decides. Nothing gets much better than that encore lap, celebrating a really great night with the fans.

Though surprising fans in the photo booths might be better.

“Can I take a picture with you?” Aelin asks, ducking her head inside the curtain of the booth. A fan screams in shock and then delight. “I haven’t been in a photo booth in _years_.”

It’s hard for Aelin not to smile at the ensuing chaos, but it is easy to ignore Brullo’s disapproving frown. He’d much rather Aelin was kept in a safe little bubble; it was easier to protect her in a controlled environment—but that wasn’t any fun.

“I like your shirt,” Aelin tells one of the girls with a clever smile. She’s wearing a t-shirt with Fleetfoot’s silly face stamped on it; it’s identical to the one Aelin wears over a pair of leather leggings. “Wherever did you get it?”

“I-I love you!” The fans yelp instead of thanks.

Aelin beams, even as the teen flushes in embarrassment. “I love you, too!”

The rest of the conversations follow a similar pattern throughout the meet and greet. Aelin smiles and chats and hugs her fans, one by one. She poses for pictures with them in the photo booth, and Aelin signs the prints. She hardly notices the passing of time, riding the high from the show and her fans’ love.

Aelin’s so committed to giving each individual her full attention that she doesn’t even notice the line coming to an end. She’s definitely not expecting the little, familiar _Aewin!_ that comes before she turns around to greet the last person in line.

She spins around, surprised. “Potato?”

Thea is dressed in her favorite pink tutu and purple leggings combo. Naturally, the little girl has picked out a shirt with her best friend’s face printed on it. The one with a rainbow. The particular shirt was Thea’s design, stemming from a question asked in jest during a coloring party. _Thea, what should I put on my tour shirts?_ The little girl took it much more seriously than anticipated.

Aelin may not be dedicating the profits to a Thea Fund.

“You sang good!” the little girl tells Aelin, running into her arms. Aelin sweeps the little girl into a bone-crushing hug. “It was _beautiful!_ ” The word comes out “boo-tiful.” Gods, Aelin missed this kid. She hugs her closer.

“Aw, thank you, Thee.” Aelin glances around the room, searching for Rowan. Where one Whitethorn goes, the other usually isn’t close behind, but Rowan isn’t in sight. “Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Potato—you know you’re my favorite Whitethorn—but where’s your dad?”

“I found Ms. Whitethorn in the hall.” A security guard stands behind them, wearing a concerned smile. “She said she was looking for you.”

“Daddy is with Uncle Lor.” Thea looks guilty. “But I wanted to see you! Take pictures!”

It’s funny how Aelin can feel both upset and delighted with Thea at the same time. She frowns at the little girl. Thea knows she’s done wrong by wandering off, and she aims her wide, innocent eyes at Aelin, working her charms. Rowan’s done well with Thea, teaching her rules and safety; the toddler knows not to wander off alone, without an adult. She usually listens pretty well.

“Thea,” Aelin scolds softly. “What about holding hands?”

“I held hands with him!” Thea points at the security guard, who laughs good-naturedly. Aelin smiles, but she makes a note to tell Rowan to revisit the holding hands rule. The smart three-year-old found a loophole. At least it was a security guard that Thea sought out for help.

“Thea!” Someone shouts. Lorcan’s hulking frame looms at the entrance to the VIP area. He sags with relief when he spies them. “Shit, kid. You’re not allowed to _do_ that!”

Lorcan disappears, shouting. “Ro! Man, I found her!”

Aelin squeezes Thea in another hug to chase away the tears shining in her eyes. The toddler can tell that she’s in trouble, and she’s never taken to being in trouble very well. Aelin thinks that that isn’t a bad thing, though; she wishes she’d been more afraid of consequences while growing up.

Rowan rushes into the room. His green eyes flood with relief at the sight of his daughter; he pulls the sniffling little girl into a hug of his own. It’s stupid how happy Aelin feels to see them at long last; it’s only been a week since she caught the flight out of Doranelle to Varese.

“Gods!” Rowan cups his daughter’s face, glaring at her. “I could strangle you, Thea Whitethorn!”

Thea hiccups, crying softly because she’s upset her father. Guilt squeezes Aelin’s heart at the sight of the two of them. She feels responsible for Thea getting into trouble; the toddler was looking for her, after all.

“You Whitethorns certainly know how to make an entrance,” Aelin jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Rowan’s eyes meet hers, ruefully smiling. She taps her chin in thought. “Or, how to ruin a well-planned surprise, I guess. It just depends on how you look at it.”

“I worked so hard to keep it a secret, too.” Her boyfriend huffs. “So, surprised?”

“Surprise!” Thea echoes. Her smile is watery. “Did we do a good job?”

“The best job!” Aelin laughs affectionately at her, gives the girl a kiss on the top of the head. Thea giggles and Rowan glowers. Aelin can tell that he’s bummed about the turn of the evening. She wonders what he had planned. Aelin presses a kiss to his lips, thankful for the now-empty meet and greet room.

“I’m happy you guys are here,” she tells Rowan. “I missed you.”

##  **The _Dear Society_ Tour Rents Out Restaurant For The Evening.**

As is tradition, Aelin takes the touring team out for dinner. Rowan and Thea tag along with them, and Aelin takes the time to soak up every second with the pair. They sit at one end of the table with Elide and Lorcan, while Aelin floats between the different groups of people—the band, the dancers, the backup singers, the production crew.

It’s only the smell of her dinner and Thea’s sweet calls that persuade Aelin to return to her seat between the father-daughter duo. Rowan’s warm hand finds her lap immediately, and Aelin smiles, hugging the arm he’s offered and savoring the contact. She’s missed this.

“Nugget!” Thea announces, offering Aelin one of her chicken nuggets. The singer giggles at the little girl and lets the toddler feed her by hand. The adults nearby laugh at the sight; Rowan affectionately squeezes Aelin’s knee.

“Pretty sure your stepmom is supposed to feed you, kid.” Lorcan grins, looking pleased with the sly joke. It only grows when Elide swats his arm. “Not the other way around.”

Aelin ignores the drummer, focusing her attention on Thea. “Thanks, Potato. Would you like a tomato?”

She offers the toddler a forkful of salad, and Thea happily chomps down on it. She’s much better about her vegetables than Aelin. Thea promptly holds out her hand for another. When Aelin meets Rowan’s gaze, she finds him smiling fondly at the two of them.

“Can’t imagine where she learned it from,” he says and offers Aelin a fry from his plate.

The table laughs. Aelin accepts the fry from him. Another nugget from Thea.

“Wow.” Elide’s brown eyes smile at them. “You three are super gross.” She tilts her head. “It’s kind of cute.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Sells Out Wendlyn Leg Of Tour.**

“ _Oh_!” Aelin tightens her grip on Rowan’s hair. The palm of her other hand presses flat against the wall for support. “Just like that, baby. _Fuck_.”

Rowan slaps her ass, fucking up into her as Aelin bounces up and down. He chuckles at the gasping sound she makes, groans at how she clenches around him. Now that he’s learned Aelin is into it, Rowan’s less shy about the rough play. He admitted to being nervous about turning her off with it, which is just adorable. Aelin thinks this new development for them is _fantastic_.

“Is that good, baby?” Rowan asks. He has the nerve to laugh again when she whimpers, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline. “Does that make you wanna come?”

“Yeah.” Aelin pants, grinding down on Rowan’s cock. “Don’t stop, baby. Make me come.” He hits that deep spot that makes her dizzy. “ _Please_ , _don’t stop._ ”

Aelin wondered why Essar booked a two-bedroom suite for her. It didn’t make sense even if she was staying there for a very long and stressful week. Then Thea showed up at the backstage greeting, smiling and dressed in her tour merch. The people in Aelin’s camp were sneaky, and it appeared that Rowan had, at last, infiltrated the team.

He’s come such a long way from being on her blacklist.

“Oh, gods. _Ye_ s. Rowan!”

Rowan groans as Aelin’s body spasms around him. He buries his face between her breasts, jerking his hips into her until he comes, too. It’s been a week since they last had each other; they were quick to get to the point tonight.

This morning, Aelin guesses. The hour was late when they finally left the restaurant; Thea nearly fell asleep into her plate of chicken nuggets once the excitement wore off. Rowan happily carried her from restaurant, one hand linked in Aelin’s.

Aelin presses a few kisses to his forehead and temples as they come down together. Rowan doesn’t let her go to get cleaned up right away, nuzzling her skin and kissing her face; she giggles at his affectionate behavior. Rowan is always extra sweet after sex, though he denies it.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, flopping back to the bed.

Aelin laughs breathlessly, curling into his side. “Was that a good one?”

Rowan’s silly nod makes her smile; she presses a kiss to his chest, earning a grunt. Rowan is sprawled shamelessly across the hotel bed, looking like some kind of god with his muscles and tattoos for days. It makes a forgotten question return to her.

“What’s it mean?” Aelin asks, kissing the tattoo on his shoulder. She recognizes the Old Tongue script, but Aelin was never any good in her language studies. Actually, Aelin was pretty terrible in most of her classes; it was fortunate that she became famous.

Rowan turns his head to look at her, eyes darting down to his tattoo. The expression he wears makes Aelin wonder if she won’t regret her decision to ask about it. She can see him turn the answer over in his head, picking out the right thing to say. It makes her nervous.

“It’s about Lyria,” he whispers in the quiet, “and… about everything else, too.”

Aelin plays with the fingers of his hand resting on his stomach. She can tell Rowan has more to say on the matter; it just takes him longer, sometimes, unlike Aelin, who just says the first thing that comes to mind. That’s probably for the best, though. Gods know where they would be if Rowan was as quick to speak as her.

“I failed her,” Rowan speaks at last. “I mean, she failed me, too, but I—ugh, I don’t know.” He releases a heavy sigh, eyes focused on the ceiling. “I guess you could call it a mutual effort. Either way, our marriage was doomed from the beginning. Just a last-ditch effort to—”

Rowan stops himself, frowning deeply. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear this. The last thing you could possibly want is to listen to _me_ complain about my shitty choices.”

“But I do,” Aelin tells him. He still isn’t looking at her; Rowan does that a lot when opening up to her. It’s harder for him. Always has been. “I want to know _if_ you want to tell me about it.”

It takes him some time to keep talking.

“I, uh, don’t think…” His voice trails off, and Rowan furrows his brow again. “Honestly? I don’t think Lyria and I would have stayed together had we not gotten pregnant.” Aelin tenses; Rowan must feel it. He rubs a hand down her back and sighs. “Yeah, I know that it’s a shitty thing to say, but now that it’s all said and done.”

He shrugs. “We weren’t good together, and I take the blame for that. I, I should have done better by her than I did. Lyria deserved better than my sorry ass.” A long pause follows. Aelin lifts her head to check on him; Rowan stares into space, lost in his thoughts. 

Suddenly his gaze meets hers. “I should have done better by you, too.”

Aelin thinks of all of the fighting between her and Rowan, how many times they forgave one other and then got mad at each other again. Aelin never stopped to think about what Rowan’s relationship with Lyria was like behind closed doors, if it was, perhaps, also filled with arguments; she only ever saw the smiles and kisses. The happy times.

Aelin leans forward to press a kiss to his lips. “We’ve both changed a lot since then,” she tells him softly, her forehead pressed to his. Rowan’s hand cups her face, trapping her close to his face, but Aelin doesn’t mind. “I, for one, became _way_ cooler, but you got _old_.”

Rowan cracks a smile at that. He catches her lip with his teeth, but they’re both smiling too much for the kiss to be any good. “Way cooler,” he agrees, laughing against her lips. Aelin grins, having successfully brightened his mood. “Gods, I can’t believe I’m almost thirty.”

When it’s clear that Rowan doesn’t want to say more, they get out of bed to get cleaned up. Rowan takes his time washing Aelin’s hair for her, and she pays special attention to his shoulders and back, kissing the marks of her nails when she finds them. As Aelin cuts off the water, Rowan grabs the towels, wrapping her in one as she steps out of the shower.

She feels guilty when the spark returns to Rowan’s eyes, and he presses a kiss behind her ear. Aelin sighs, leaning into him despite herself. “I… I’m sorry, baby,” she tells him, peeling his hands away from her waist, “but I don’t have another round in me. I think I’m ready for bed.”

“It’s okay.” Rowan relents right away, tightening the towel around her. He kisses her temple and leads her to bed without complaint. Dressed in his clothes and with Rowan wrapped around her, Aelin falls asleep quickly and deeply.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Tour Buses Arrive In Narrow’s Landing.**

She’s tracing the lines of his tattoo when Rowan wakes up in the morning. Aelin is loath to see the daybreak behind the hotel curtains; Rowan and Thea were only there for the night. She’d have to say goodbye to them soon, just as soon as they finish breakfast with Vaughan.

Rowan smiles at her in greeting, reaching to smooth back her bed hair. Aelin thinks it’s time for another haircut; it’s too hard to manage all this hair and a tour at the same time. It takes a little while for the fog of sleep to fade from Rowan’s face; Aelin sees it when he notices her attention on the tattoo.

“I just needed to get it out, to process everything,” Rowan tells her in a sleep-hoarse voice, knowing her thoughts better than she does. “And I wanted to do it in a way that would honor her—and remind me not to be such a jackass to anyone ever again.” He pauses. “So, I got a tattoo. Connall went with me, hyped me up.”

“Did it help?” she asks him. Aelin rests her chin on his chest, watching him. “Getting the tattoo, I mean, did it help you work through… everything?”

“Yeah.” Rowan’s eyes grow in size, and he looks at her. “And I did it _right_ as we started to, to take that next step. Gods, I’m just a fucking asshole.” He yanks the hand from under his head, covers his face with it. “I can’t believe I did that without talking to you. I—”

“Rowan,” Aelin cuts him off gently. She presses her lips to his, and he grunts his disapproval, recognizing the attempt to hush him gently for what it is. “It’s your skin. Do what you want with it.”

“But doesn’t it bother you?” He frowns at her. “That I—”

“Gods,” Aelin scoffs, sitting up and throwing a leg over his waist to straddle him. “You’re thinking _way_ too hard for someone who had their brains fucked out last night.” She wiggles suggestively against him. “Perhaps, we need to go again before breakfast.”

Rowan glares at her. “You’re deflecting.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like me at all.” Aelin traces the script with her finger and sighs, feeling called out on the matter. “Um. Lyria was—She _is_ Thea’s mother. Your wife. She was important to you and always will be.”

He frowns deeply, and Aelin presses her thumb to the crease in his brow, smoothing it away.

“Rowan—you loved her.” She hates the old, sick feeling that comes back to her. That’s not Aelin anymore; it’s not them either. “I could never fault you for that, nor would I want to. Never.”

She holds his gaze, pouring every ounce of sincerity into her eyes as possible. Sometimes, it’s easier for Aelin to communicate with him that way. Silently. They’ve always been able to read each other’s thoughts.

“I did love her. I really did,” Rowan says with a sigh at last. “Just—not the way I was supposed to love her, I don’t think. Not at the end.” He reaches for Aelin and pulls her down to his chest to hold, presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “I wish I’d figured it out sooner. I wish I’d been able to admit it sooner before so much damage was done.”

Aelin listens to his heart race as Rowan thinks of what to say next. Seconds feel like lifetimes as she waits.

“I loved you before I loved Lyria, before I met her.” Rowan kisses her temple again, running his fingers through her hair. “I, I think I was afraid of what it meant, loving you. Of what it could do to our lives, to the band, if it…”

“Didn’t work out?” Aelin supplies. She wonders if Rowan can feel her heart pounding against her rib cage. It’s certainly all she can hear. “Yeah, I was, too.”

Rowan hugs Aelin infinitesimally closer to his body as if he’s afraid she might slip through his fingers again. She doesn’t complain; she needs the comfort as much as he does. This conversation has been coming for a long time, and they’ve only cracked the surface.

“I thought about saying something,” Rowan whispers. His voice is hoarse with feeling. “Millions of times, and then there was that night in my apartment.” A heavy pause. “When you never brought it back up… Aelin, I—You didn’t _say anything_.”

Aelin can feel his defeat. Tears prick at her eyes. Gods, they’d been so close, and they both let their fears get in the way, assumed the other didn’t feel the same.

“You sent me home.” Aelin dares to look at him, wiggling in his grasp to lean against his chest and see his face. “You always let me stay before, _especially_ when I was high. Mother hen,” she adds. Rowan scoffs despite the frown he wears. “That night, though, you didn’t. We almost—kissed.” 

It’s silly how Aelin chokes on the word as if it’s some dirty secret, like she’s embarrassed about it while lying in bed with him. “And then you sent me home. I figured—” She shrugs. “I assumed that meant you were ashamed, especially when you didn’t mention it again.”

“I was—” Rowan pauses, choosing his words “—scared of what might happen. If I let you stay.” He has to clear his throat to keep speaking. “I wanted you so _badly_ , and I’d never—I never fucking realized until it was _happening._ I panicked, and I was scared. I’m not proud of it, but I did.”

Aelin presses a kiss to his heart, and Rowan cups her face, tracing her cheekbone with a thumb. He smiles when she rests the weight of her head in his hand, watching him closely.

“I can’t even tell you how I wish that I hadn’t been such a coward,” he says vehemently. “But at the same time—“ Rowan bites his lip. “I don’t. Because otherwise, I might not have Thea, and I will _never_ regret her. Even with all the tutus and tantrums and _glitter._ Gods, that shit gets everywhere.”

It isn’t until she laughs that they both realize Aelin is crying. Rowan brushes the tears away, smiling softly at her. His lips meet hers gently.

“I’m sorry I put you through so much shit to get to here,” Rowan says. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Or you.” He accepts the kiss Aelin offers, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m _so_ _sorry_ for everything.”

“Me, too.” Aelin hugs him closely, pressing her face into his shoulder. She finds comfort in the feeling of his weight next to hers, letting him do the same. “You can’t blame yourself alone, Rowan. I’m just as guilty.” Her smile is pained. “Instead of telling you how I felt, I set you up with Lyria.”

“Why did you do that?” Rowan asks. “If you wanted to be with me?”

“I just figured…” Aelin wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know. You didn’t want to be with me, or so I thought,” she amends at the look on his face, “and you clearly _liked_ her. So, I decided to be your wingman—like a good best friend.”

Rowan groans, pressing his face into her hair. “We were so stupid.”

“That we are in complete agreement on,” Aelin says with a smile.

“But that’s also why I love you,” he says softly, gazing at her. “You were willing to sacrifice your own happiness for mine.” The words hold more weight in the quiet of the morning. “I love you, Aelin. I’ll never deserve you.”

Unable to form a response, Aelin squeezes his waist and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Rowan twists in her grip to hold her face and kiss her properly, and Aelin melts into his touch, overcome with her feelings. She wraps her arms around Rowan’s neck, and he shifts to lay above her.

“I love you, too.” Aelin sighs the words as his lips find her neck. “You make me very happy.”

She gets a smile and a kiss for that. Aelin sucks in a breath when his warm hand finds her thigh, lifting it to hook around his waist. Rowan gets to work, sucking a mark to the bottom of her throat. Aelin really _wants_ to tell him to stop, but she also doesn’t, savoring the feeling of his lips on her skin. She thinks it’s worth the teasing she’ll get later from Manon. Instead, she rakes her nails against his scalp in encouragement.

Aelin hums at the feeling of their bodies lined up; Rowan’s hips grind against hers, and Aelin considers shrugging out of the shirt she’s claimed from Rowan’s suitcase. He seems to share her thoughts, slipping his fingers underneath the hem and sliding them upwards.

“Rowan…” she sighs.

“It’s okay, baby,” he murmurs into her skin. “I’ve got you.”

Then the door swings open, slamming against the wall. They spring apart just as Thea sing-songs, “ _Good_ _morning_!”

Aelin laughs at Rowan’s alarmed expression. He’s rolled away from her, and she bites her lip at the faint flush on his cheeks, his swollen lips. It’s not the time or place—not anymore—but Aelin can’t help herself. Rowan looks good, if flushed and a little embarrassed.

“Good morning, Potato!” she cheers at Thea, thankful for the t-shirt now. Aelin hopes that Rowan knows he won’t be getting it back. It hers now. “Did you have good dreams?”

“Sweet dreams!” the toddler chirps.

Rowan chuckles as his daughter. “Good morning, love.”

Aelin sits up as Thea climbs into the bed with them. Rowan’s smile is a little strained; he definitely was not prepared for his daughter to crash their heavy makeout session. The toddler flops across the comforter.

She says, “I want pancakes!”

The adults laugh at her. Aelin tells the girl, “We’re getting breakfast with Uncle Vaughan. I’m sure you can talk him into buying you pancakes.”

Thea’s eyes light up at the prospect. Rowan laughs at them; smiling, he turns to Aelin. “You’re cruel, setting him up like that.”

“Serves him right for skipping my show.” Aelin winks at him. Her attention shifts to Thea. “Bath time first and then breakfast?” Rowan’s daughter frowns disapprovingly. Aelin grins, unafraid to cheat. “I have bubbles.”

Thea takes off for the bathroom, and the adults laugh at her eagerness. Rowan catches Aelin by the hand to stop her from following after Thea. He gives her a good kiss, saying thank you and a promise to continue this later. Aelin ruffles his hair and hurries after Thea.

##  **A Cadre Gathering! Aelin Galathynius Has Breakfast With Vaughan Phillips And Rowan Whitethorn.**


	53. Chapter 53

##  **Aelin Galathynius Finishes First Leg of Her Wendlyn Tour Dates.**

“Fireheart,” Aelin’s mother says, rubbing her temples, “do you have any painkillers? I’ve got the worst headache.”

“Wow.” Aelin doesn’t even look up from her phone, reading the schedule Essar sent her for the week after next. She was quite the jet setter as of late, and it seemed like that wasn’t about to stop any time soon. At least, she had a couple free days with Rowan first. “I didn’t know you hated my music so much, Mom.”

“It’s the strobe lights, dear.” Evalin releases a long-suffering sigh. “Your show last night was lovely, as always.”

“Your mother is getting old.” Aelin’s father grins from where he sits with Aedion. They’re pretending not to be talking business, but anyone could tell that’s what they were up to, especially based upon Lysandra’s bored expression. “She can’t party like she used to, Ae.”

Aelin snickers with her dad, but she decides to spare her glaring mother the teasing. “Yeah, I should have something in my bag over there.”

Evalin smiles thankfully and reaches for Aelin’s carry-on. The singer turns her attention back to her phone when it buzzes. Another text from Rowan. Gods, she misses that man. Thirteen hours was not enough time with him, and after two months since that night, Aelin was very ready to head back to Doranelle to see him.

Rowan seemed to share the sentiment. His text reads, **5 hours, and counting.**

“Woah, wait a second,” Aedion half-shouts in the closed space of the plane cabin. Lysandra hushes him immediately, minding Evalin’s headache. Her fiancé continues more quietly, “Are we really just letting what Rhoe said slide? Aunt Evie, were you a partier?” 

“Oh, ho, ho.” Rhoe’s grin is like looking in a mirror for Aelin. She immediately feels terrible for every tormenting thing she’s ever said to anyone. “You should’ve _Evalin_ _Ashryver_ in her prime.” Aelin’s father smiles in a way that makes Aelin’s heart clench at the sight of the pure, unadulterated love. “What a sight she was!”

Evalin tosses a container of lip gloss at her husband’s head. “Don’t tell them the details!”

“ _Please_ tell us the details,” Aedion begs. Lysandra leans her head against his shoulder, heading into the oblivion of sleep. The woman claims to have lucked out on many negative symptoms of pregnancy, except for the fatigue.

**I can’t wait, baby**. Aelin texts back to Rowan. Then she turns her focus on her father, unashamed to beg, “ _Please don’t_. I don’t need this kind of knowledge in my life.”

Another wicked, familiar smile. Rhoe says, “Have I ever told you kids about the time—”

“— _Dad!_ ”

“Oh, this is about to be some good shit,” Aedion says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m so excited.”

“Could you be excited with less moving?” Lysandra mumbles her complaint. Aedion’s expression softens, and he shifts to make her more comfortable, pressing a kiss to Lys’s forehead. He’ll be a great father.

Rhoe’s grin doesn’t fade. He opens his mouth to tell the story, much to Aelin’s dismay, but it’s her mother that speaks first, alarm and concern raising the pitch of her voice. “Fireheart, what is this?”

Aelin looks towards her mother, and her heart stutters at the sight of the little pill bottle in Evalin’s hands. Oh, shit. Aelin is an idiot. She’s in so much trouble.

Her mother stares at her with worry, and Aelin swallows back her nerves, looking into the eyes of her family members. Rhoe seems confused, and Aedion’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline before he sends Aelin a sad smile. Lysandra glares at all of them, irritated that she chose to marry into such a loud family.

“Uh.” Aelin coughs a little. “Those would be my anti-depressants.”

The silence is deafening. Aelin’s sole savior is the announcement that the jet is about to take off. Everyone quickly buckles in and braces for the ascent. It gives Aelin the chance to gather her wits. Fuck, she should’ve brought Lorcan with her, but someone wanted to spend a “weekend away” with his girlfriend. Ugh.

“So, you went to Yrene?” Aedion asks, breaking the quiet.

Aelin nods. She can’t find the ability to speak.

Evalin’s lip trembles. “When did you? Why didn’t you?”

“Uh, I…” Aelin has to pause to clear her throat. Gods, if her mother starts to cry, she certainly will, too, and then the pregnant woman won’t stand a chance. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you all. I—”

Her words fail her again. The cabin becomes unbearably quiet, and Aelin stares at her family as they process this news. Rhoe is the picture of a statue. Gone is his troublesome smile, and Aelin’s mother looks overcome with guilt, which Aelin finds just silly; Evalin couldn’t have known what was wrong with Aelin or managed to stop it from happening.

Aedion’s face is open, accepting. “Depression?”

“Yeah,” Aelin answers the question. “And anxiety.” Her cousin nods once thoughtfully. “It’s not much of a surprise, really,” she says, trying to lighten the severe mood in that way of hers. “We’ve always said that my head was messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” Aelin’s father says quickly. It makes her want to cry.

“Thank you for telling us,” Evalin says at last. Her Ashryver eyes are apologetic when they look at Aelin. “I’m sorry for forcing you to do so before you were ready.”

“No, I was ready.” Aelin changes seats to sit closer to her mother. “I’m just an idiot and bad at communication.”

“Yet, you’re an award-winning lyricist,” Aedion teases. Aelin flips him off.

The conversation lulls. Aelin will need to have a sit-down and cry session with her mother once back home; the plane ride doesn’t seem like the right time for that. The family eyes each other carefully, looking for a change of subject.

“I’m pregnant,” Lysandra blurts, having stayed uncharacteristically quiet during the reveal. Aelin confessed her depression to Lysandra during their time sitting on her bathroom floor. Lysandra already knew, and it seemed she’d kept the secret for Aelin based on Aedion’s surprise. Once again, Aelin is reminded what a good friend the model is. Aelin owes her the world.

Aelin’s parents and Aedion gape at Lysandra.

“I thought we were going to wait, babe,” Aedion stage-whispers to Lys.

She shrugs indifferently. “Well, I figured if we’re getting everything out in the open, and everyone’s in the same place.” Her green eyes turn wide. “Oh! And the wedding is on pause. I’m _not_ looking fat in my dress, and I _will_ get my destination wedding.”

Aelin laughs at that. “Time and date, and I’ll be there.”

“A grandbaby!” Evalin says, clasping her hands together. “Did you hear that, Rhoe?”

Aelin’s father smiles. “That I did. We need some bourbon.”

“Why does everyone always want to _drink_ about a baby?” Lysandra complains. “It’s like the one activity I’m not allowed to partake in, which is incredibly unfair.” She frowns, and the rest of them laugh. “I’m the one growing a whole human. We should _eat_.”

Aedion laughs and kisses Lys’s temple. “I plan to buy you all of the peanut butter your heart could ever desire.”

The woman makes a pleased sound, curling back into his side. “Now, I’m going back to sleep, okay?”

Evalin smiles from ear to ear as she watches the young couple. Aelin leans her head on her mother’s shoulder, feeling happy and content for the flight home. The older Galathynius woman squeezes her daughter. 

She whispers to Aelin, “I’m proud of you, Fireheart, and we’re all here for you if you need us. Though, I expect a certain someone is taking good care of you.”

“Yeah, he does.” Aelin smiles sleepily. “But, he can’t replace my mom.”

##  **What Is Damaris Labels?**

“Honey, I’m home!” Aelin shouts into the apartment when she arrives. She laughs as Fleetfoot barrels down the entryway of Rowan’s apartment, eager to greet her mother; Thea runs after the dog, shrieking in excitement. 

Aelin drops to her knees to welcome them both and is nearly tackled to the floor. It’s the best thing ever. “Hey!”

“Girls, don’t crush her,” Rowan tells the pair. He’s trying hard to glower at the chaos, but a smile twitches the corners of his mouth. Aelin grins up at him, accepting the hand he offers—the kiss, too.

“Hi,” she tells him. Rowan smiles. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He gives Aelin another chaste kiss. “Dinner is almost ready. Go get comfortable.” 

Rowan takes her things from her before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Thea takes her by the hand, and Aelin holds hands with the little girl as they walk to the living room and sit on the couch together.

The toddler tells her animatedly about the day she’s had, babbling so that Aelin has trouble understanding some of the toddler-speech. Once caught up, Thea cuddles into Aelin’s side, and they watch the cartoon playing on the television.

Aelin struggles not to yawn. It’s only been a handful of hours since Aelin left the hotel to fly home with her family, but Aelin is exhausted. With Fleetfoot laying on her feet and Thea hugging her close, the woman finds herself warm and comfortable. She decides to rest her eyes for just a minute. Just until dinner is done...

##  **Adarlan Records Confirms that Aelin Galathynius Has Left the Label.**

“Baby.” A laugh and a kiss. “Baby, wake up.”

Aelin wakes up to Rowan kissing her on the forehead, his soft laughter, and that even softer smile. His voice is fond. “Did you fall asleep on me, Ace?”

“No.” Aelin spares a smile of her own without opening her eyes. “I’m awake.”

Rowan chuckles again. “Oh, really? Then where’s Thea?”

“Shit!” Aelin bolts upright. She searches for the little girl and is horrified to find the toddler nowhere in sight. She looks to Rowan and is surprised to see him grinning wickedly. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing, baby.” Rowan presses a kiss to her lips, claiming the seat next to her on the couch. Aelin rolls over towards him, burying her face into his shoulder and closing her eyes again. She’s not ready to be awake.

Rowan chuckles. “Just that Thea came running into the kitchen a few minutes and told me—” Rowan adopts a high-pitched little girl’s voice “—‘Sshh! _Sshh_! Aelin is _sleeping_!’” His laughter shakes his chest. “And sure enough, here you are. _Sleeping_.”

“ _Oh no_ ,” Aelin moans. “How much trouble did they get into? What’s broken?”

“Nothing’s broken.” Rowan presses a kiss to her hair, rubbing circles into her back. “Thea helped me make the salad. You got off lucky this time, Ace.”

Aelin sighs in relief and buries her face into Rowan’s chest. He’s content to snuggle on the couch with her; Rowan pulls her onto his lap and resting his chin atop her head. They stay like that as Aelin wakes up the rest of the way, and then she smells the food.

“Oh,” Aelin perks up, “that smells _fantastic_.”

“Good.” Rowan grins. “Because we are out of chicken nuggets.”

The adults go to the dining room. Thea stands precariously in a chair, pretending to arrange the silverware like she’s seen done in restaurants. Aelin smiles at her and claims a seat, while Rowan sweeps the squealing little girl off of the chair, sitting her down in it properly.

Thea turns her bright eyes on Aelin. “Sweet dreams?”

“Very sweet,” Aelin replies, smiling at her.

They dig into the food, and Rowan scowls at Aelin and Thea as they both sneak Fleetfoot a few bites. Aelin knows it's bad of them, but it’s tough to say no to those big brown eyes.

“So,” Rowan begins as they start to clear the table. Well, Rowan is clearing the table; Aelin is drinking and admiring the view. Rowan looks very good in his loungewear; it’s pretty distracting.

Thea’s long since finished her meal, leaving the adults to their wine and chit chat. The little girl would much rather run around the house with Fleetfoot anyway, but Aelin suspects she’ll be fast asleep soon if her crazy burst of energy is any indication.

Aelin glances at Rowan, urging him to continue with the quirk of her brow. “So?”

His smile is soft and shy. “I was thinking we should go to dinner this week while you’re in town.”

“Oh!” Aelin grins. “Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun.” She sets down her wine, at last, helping Rowan gather the dishes. “It’s been forever since we last went to Emrys’s. He’d love to see Thea again. And I bet I can coerce the guys into coming—”

Her voice falters as Rowan’s face sinks in disappointment. Aelin waits for him to explain, but her boyfriend remains quiet while they finish clearing the table. Rowan turns the sink faucet on, preparing to load the dishwasher.

Aelin says, “Rowan?”

“Uh.” He laughs, avoiding eye contact and the conversation that they’ve seemed to trip into. “It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.”

“Baby.” Aelin knows it’s cheating, but she doesn’t care. “Tell me.”

Rowan sighs, incapable of fighting her off as Aelin wraps her arms around him from behind and hugs him close. She finds it more comfortable to talk this way, entangled with each other, but Rowan doesn’t if the way he frees himself from her embrace is any indication. Aelin works hard not to feel self-conscious about it; Rowan doesn’t do it to hurt her.

“It’s stupid, honest.” Rowan runs a hand through his hair, and Aelin raises a brow at him, waiting for him to explain. “I just—” A sigh. “I thought we’d go to dinner just the two of us. No kids.”

Aelin can’t resist cracking a grin at that. “Are you including the band in the kid count?”

Rowan thinks it over; he smiles. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Aelin asks him quietly. “Why did you… give in so easily?”

“I don’t know.” Rowan meets her gaze, and Aelin can tell that the words are honest. He bites his lip and stares at his feet. “I guess it’s a bad habit I picked up.” Rowan is hesitant to elaborate, but Aelin asks the question with her eyes.

He crosses his arms to protect himself. “With Lyria.”

“Oh.” Aelin wasn’t expecting that, and she doesn’t know what to say in response.

Rowan clears his throat. “We, uh, didn’t agree on a lot when it came down to it. Lyria and I fought so much after we first got married—about a lot of stupid shit.” He grimaces in anticipation of his next words, alarming Aelin. “We were newlyweds with a baby. I was an ass to her, and she was stressed out. I just wanted so badly for us to be happy. For Thea.”

“I’m sure you were stressed out, too.” Aelin feels a surge of protectiveness rush through her. It’s not fair that Rowan has accepted all of the guilt. It was on all of them. All _three_ of them. “You can’t take all of the blame, Rowan. It’s not healthy. Or fair.”

She waits for Rowan to consider what she’s said. Instead of agreeing with her, he shrugs indifferently and turns back toward the sink load of dishes. It makes her lose her temper with him. She doesn’t mean to do it; it just happens.

“You can’t just shrug off everything that happened,” Aelin snaps. Rowan startles at the harsh tone of her voice, looking back at her in surprise. “That’s... _bullshit_.”

Rowan freezes in place. “Excuse me?”

His voice is carefully neutral, and somehow that makes Aelin madder. “Don’t play dumb, Rowan.” The challenge in her voice has him turning around to face her fully. Rowan’s eyes are hard and angry; Aelin lifts her shoulders and stands her ground. “Not everything that ever went wrong is your fault. Sure, you fucked up, but so did I—and so did Lyria.”

Silence. Aelin watches Rowan carefully, waiting. Fleetfoot comes scrambling into the kitchen, summoned by the sound of Aelin’s irritation; she leans against her mother’s shins.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. It’s an attempt to shut down the conversation—a dismissal.

Aelin scoffs. “Yeah, I don’t know a lot—because you won’t tell me.” She hates the way she sounds, hurt and petulant. “I get it, but also, I don’t. You used to tell me everything, and you _definitely_ used to have no problem arguing with me.”

“So, you want to fight?” his voice is just mean. “That’s your problem?” A cruel laugh. “That I don’t _fight_ with you?”

“No!” Aelin groans, resisting the urge to rip out her hair. It’s pretty tempting. “I just—”

Thea appears then, eyes worried and too big for her face. Aelin feels a rush of guilt at the sight of the anxious toddler, but Rowan lifts Thea into his arms before Aelin could think to do the same.

“Daddy, are you mad?” the three-year-old asks. Aelin flinches at the question, and her guilt grows.

“No, love. I’m not mad. We’re just frustrated.” Rowan chances a glance at Aelin, but his expression is carefully neutral. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Thea and Rowan leave the kitchen. Aelin idles, unsure of whether to stay or go. Every nerve twitches with her flight response. Rowan’s made it evident that he doesn’t want to talk with her, and hurt; she just wants to leave.

Aelin gathers her bag and Fleetfoot’s leash. Aelin isn’t sure how to get home, but she’s not above calling a taxi and using Fleetfoot as her protector. If Rowan wants to be so stubborn, then Aelin would go home. That’s what she tells herself, anyway.

She’s managed to work herself back up by the time Rowan reappears.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s footsteps falter at the sight of her getting ready to leave. “What-what are you doing?” His voice turns hard. “Are you leaving?”

“Well, it’s not like you want me here right now.” Aelin shrugs, aiming for indifference to mask the hurt she’s feeling. “I might as well go home and get some work done.”

“Don’t do that,” Rowan says through his teeth.

Aelin shoots him a glare. “Do _what_?”

“Revert back to the Aelin who picks a fight and then takes off.” He crosses his arms stubbornly, and Aelin stands up straighter. “We’re better than that.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Aelin scoffs. “I’m not the one that jumps to conclusions and _takes off_ ,” she hisses at him. “Or who refuses to, to—”

“Talk to you?” he supplies.

“Yes!” Aelin sucks in a sharp breath. She doesn’t want to fight with Rowan; although, her boyfriend seems determined to make that as difficult as possible. “I just want you to _talk_ to me, Rowan. It’s like we keep taking two steps forward and three steps back. I get you to share something with me, and then we have a misunderstanding, and you _shut down.”_

Rowan doesn’t say anything; his expression is stern.

“Like that day with Lys.” She sighs, trying to arrange her thoughts. “You just _decided_ that you knew what I wanted—jumped to a conclusion—and then you left!” Aelin runs her fingers through her hair, feeling frustrated. The anger dissipated quickly, and now she’s lost trying to make up for her impatience. “And you didn’t talk to me at all until the next night. And earlier you—“

“I gave in,” he finishes for her. Rowan looks unimpressed.

“Yes.” Aelin frowns. “Like with Lyria.”

Rowan looks furious. His words are a growl. “ _Please_ , don’t use my words against me.”

“I—” Aelin registers what he’s said. “Against you? Rowan, I am _never_ against you.”

“I’m trying to figure out what you want from me right now,” the softness in his voice contradicts the guarded expression he wears, “but I’m coming up short.”

Aelin’s voice is fierce but hushed. “What do _you_ want?”

“I—” Rowan ruffles his freshly cut hair; her heart squeezes when she realizes he got it cut the way she asked, keeping it longer on the top so she could play with it still. “Thea asked for you,” he says, at last. Rowan’s face is troubled. “She wants to say goodnight to you. She’s missed you.”

He rubs his brow. “Gods, she’s probably been in there listening to us.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Aelin says, feeling like an ass, “if that’s okay with you?”

Rowan’s face softens at last. “Of course, it’s okay.”

Aelin nods sharply and heads for the hall. The walk to Thea’s room takes seconds, but it feels like hours. She hates that she’s wrecked their pleasant evening; it started so well. 

The door is cracked open when she reaches it. Aelin knocks softly and peeks inside. Thea sits against the headboard of her bed, hugging her bunny and looking very sad.

“Hey, Potato.” Aelin flashes a reassuring smile. “I came to tuck you in.”

“Okay.” The little girl sighs.

Aelin sits on the edge of the bed, observing Thea’s downturned face. “Were you listening to us?”

“Yes.” Thea tucks her chin on her bunny’s shoulder. “You and Daddy were yelling.”

“Yes, we were.” Aelin swipes the little girl’s hair out of her face. “It’s upsetting when grown-ups do that, huh?”

A quiet, little nod.

“We were—“ Aelin pauses; she wants to choose her words carefully, to explain this well. But Aelin doesn’t have a lot of experience explaining anything to kids. “Sometimes grownups get mad or frustrated, and then they yell.”

“Daddy says yelling is bad.”

Damn, Aelin thinks. Thea certainly isn’t letting her off easy with this one.

“It is,” Aelin agrees. She feels worse by the second for going off on Rowan. “Do you ever yell when you get mad?”

Thea thinks it over. “Yeah.”

“And what do you’re mean to someone?” Aelin curls into the little bed with Thea and the toddler leans into her side. Aelin hugs her close.

Thea says, “Say sorry.”

“That’s right, Potato.” Aelin smiles approvingly. “So, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’ll tell your dad that I’m sorry for yelling.” A pause. “And I’m sorry to you, too. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Aelin’s words seem to do the trick. Thea snuggles into her side and says, “I forgive you.”

“Thanks, Potato.” Aelin kisses the top of the little girl’s head. She tries to get out of the bed to let Thea go to sleep, but the girl’s grip on Aelin’s arm stops her. She relents quickly, sinking into the bed with Thea.

Aelin rests her chin on top of Thea’s head. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

“Sweet dreams,” Thea says. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, Thea,” Aelin chokes on the words. “Sweet dreams.”

Aelin refuses to cry as she waits for Thea to drift off to sleep. She hums a few different melodies as she remains, and even once Aelin is nearly sure that Thea is asleep, she waits a few more minutes just to be safe. And to soak up the precious moment, commit it to her memory. 

Thea told her that she loved her. For the very first time.

##  **Former The Cadres Band Members Announces Damaris Labels.**

Rowan is fast asleep with Aelin creeps into the bedroom. Her feelings of disappointment and guilt nag at her conscience as she slips into the bathroom to get ready for bed; she was hoping to talk to him a little, to apologize, before going to sleep. But it looks like that will have to wait until the morning.

Still, Aelin can’t resist the temptation to steal one of Rowan’s freshly laundered shirts from his closet to wear to bed, and Fleetfoot’s tail thumps softly as Aelin crawls into the bed. Aelin is surprised that the dog isn’t camped out in Thea’s room with how inseparable, but she’s even more surprised to see Fleetfoot on the bed, sleeping across Rowan’s feet.

“Hey, girl.” Aelin scratches the dog between the ears before getting comfortable. “You and Rowan work out your differences?”

She lays down. All Aelin wants is to press her face between Rowan’s shoulder blades and hug it out, but she knows that Rowan must still be upset with her. With that knowledge, Aelin doesn’t have the confidence to curl up against him; instead, she hugs her pillow close and sticks to her side of the bed.

And then Rowan moves, rolling over and sighing. “Aelin.”

“Hm?” she replies, afraid to look at him.

“I—” Aelin feels him shift around some more. “Can we fight in the morning?” She snorts at him, and Aelin can hear the smile in Rowan’s voice as he explains, “I know you’re mad. But. It's just—I can’t sleep without your pointy chin stabbing me in the shoulder.”

“It’s not pointy!” Aelin defends.

Rowan’s laugh is weak when she rolls toward him, eager to snuggle with her boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. “Yeah, it kind of is, but I like it.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Aelin nuzzles her face into his neck, and Rowan presses a kiss to her head. “I’m just frustrated. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I get why you did.” Rowan’s voice is soft in the dark. “My schedule for the week is empty. I, uh, cleared it to spend some time with you.” He clears his throat. “I think I’ll drop Thea off at daycare tomorrow, so you and I can have some grown up time.”

Aelin sighs, breathing him in. “That sounds nice.”

“We’ll talk,” he says the sentence as if it’s a question. “I don’t want to leave this conversation unfinished.” Rowan slips an arm underneath her to pull her closer. “But I also don’t want to waste the few nights I have with you on opposite sides of the bed.”

“Me, either.” Aelin presses a kiss to Rowan’s neck. The tension releases from him slightly, even more so after taking her leg and hooking it around his middle. “I love you.”

Rowan releases a shaky breath. In the dark, his nose brushes her face as his lips search for hers. The kiss is soft and sweet and tastes a little bit like an apology. “I love you, too, Aelin.”

Aelin traces patterns into Rowan’s cotton shirt as they lay together. She can tell by his breathing and the way he occasionally shifts that he’s still awake. Aelin kisses his shoulder, and Rowan gives her a squeeze.

“I missed you,” she confesses quietly.

Rowan sighs into her hair. “I missed you, too, baby.”

##  **Dorian Havilliard Begins New Record Label with Fenrys and Connall Moonbeam.**


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is here at long last! I’ve decided to break these next scenes up into a few chapters, so the snippets I have shared will be spread amongst the following updates. It’s just better for my sanity if I release a few shorter chapters.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Spotted In Doranelle Between Concerts.**

Rowan sneaking out of bed is what wakes Aelin up the following morning. The woman mutters a protest at the loss of his warmth beside her; she clings to his shoulders to hold him hostage. Rowan’s laughter rumbles in his chest, warm and affectionate. He kisses the top of her head to soothe her, but it isn’t enough to stop her protests.

“I have to get Thea to daycare on time,” he says while trying to pry himself free.

Aelin whines, “Don’t leave.”

Another laugh. Rowan wiggles free of her grip before smoothing back her wild hair; he’s already smiling down at her when Aelin opens her eyes to shoot him a glare. Her boyfriend pecks a kiss to her lips, unafraid of her. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Aelin releases another whine as he leaves the bed, accepting her defeat but unhappy about it. Rowan only chuckles, pressing a lasting kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be back in no time.”

With that, he leaves, and the soft click of the bathroom door tells Aelin that Rowan slipped away for a shower. But Aelin isn’t ready to wake up yet; after the kind of night the couple had, she struggled to sleep well, even after calling a truce. Aelin needs a few more hours of rest, but she’d prefer to spend them with Rowan.

In his absence, Aelin reaches for his pillow and wraps her arms around it. Pressing her face into it, she grumbles over nothing, but the pillowcase does smell of Rowan. Aelin sighs, breathing in the scent of him and allowing it to lull her back to sleep.

At some point, the man in question returns to her side.

“Sleep well, baby.” Another kiss. “I’ll be back soon.”

It’s the last thing Aelin hears before she slips back into unconsciousness.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn Spotted Dropping Daughter off at Daycare.**

The second time Aelin wakes up, it’s to the soft strum of a guitar and Rowan’s gentle hums. It takes a few blinks for Aelin to figure out what is happening or where she is; Aelin hasn’t woken up in a familiar place in weeks. The lack of nondescript decor and white paint is alarming to her half-asleep brain as she tries to remember what city she’s in.

A soft hum has Aelin rolling onto her side to investigate. She finds Rowan perched on the end of an armchair by the window, a shiny black acoustic in his lap and a furrow in his brow. Aelin wonders how long her boyfriend has been there, quietly playing while she slept. It makes her frown; Rowan should have woken her up when he got back.

He notices she’s awake and smiles. “Morning, Sunshine.”

“What are you doing?” she croaks.

Rowan looks guilty. “Do we still call it working if it’s a genuine hobby?”

“If we did,” Aelin pauses for a yawn, “then I’m in some serious trouble.”

Her boyfriend laughs, smiling as he watches Aelin from the opposite side of the room with unguarded affection. Aelin returns the expression sleepily, asking, “What’re you playing? Anything good?”

“I think so,” Rowan tells her. Aelin perks up at that, but he reads her so easily, knowing what she’s about to ask before Aelin can even get the words out.

His smile turns rueful. “I’ll play it for you—when I’m ready.”

Aelin smiles knowingly. She’s the queen of secretive songs, after all. Rowan was always her sounding board, and it took Aelin a long time to share her music with other people who weren’t him. Nox was the first to receive such an honor.

It took her ages to be brave enough to let Rowan back into that private little part of her life. Aelin expected it to be easy, but after everything that transpired between them, Aelin had to rebuild her trust with him. Perhaps, Rowan wasn’t ready for that yet.

For a moment, the couple watches each other from opposite sides of the room, but the distance causes Aelin to frown. Rowan’s too far away from her for her liking; he needs to be closer to her, preferably within cuddling distance. Rowan notices the expression, raising a brow in a silent question.

Aelin simply smiles at him, holding out her outstretched arms in an unspoken invitation.

“You’re so silly,” Rowan tells her as he gets out of the chair, but he’s smiling. “And lazy.”

Aelin breaks into giggles when Rowan flops on top of her, crushing her beneath his weight. She can feel his laughter shake his chest, and Rowan kisses Aelin on the nose before repositioning himself, resting his head on her chest and wrapping his arms around her. Aelin sighs happily; this is precisely what she wanted.

“I’ve missed you, baby,” Aelin tells him, threading her fingers through his hair to play with it. Rowan practically purrs at the feeling, nuzzling his face deeper into her skin. It makes her laugh brightly; Rowan is basically nuzzling her boobs. Not that Aelin is complaining.

He murmurs, “Missed you, too, baby.”

They bask in the silence for a little while. Aelin plays with Rowan’s hair, and her boyfriend works hard not to fall asleep during their cuddle session. She presses a kiss to the top of his head, and Rowan hums in approval. They could have a very lovely lazy day like this.

Aelin musters up the courage to ruin it.

“So,” she allows her voice to trail off, waiting for Rowan to look at her. Aelin wants to make sure he’s awake. “Do you wanna talk about it and then go get drunk over brunch?”

Rowan looks disappointed by the subject, but it was him that insisted they didn’t leave the conversation unfinished. Aelin didn’t think it’d be right to shove it to the side, either. It’d be too easy to ignore until it was time for her to leave. There’d be plenty of long-distance conversations in their future; this probably shouldn’t be one of them.

“Yeah.” He sighs. “That place downtown?”

“Done,” Aelin says. “We deserve all of the mimosas.”

Rowan chuckles at that. He presses a kiss to her lips and readjusts himself against her chest; they lay there together, quiet and content. Aelin can feel that they’re both waiting for the other to speak first; she bites her lip as she thinks of what to say. Aelin always had an easier time expressing herself with a little bit of liquid courage.

“I’m so much better at this than the other stuff,” Rowan says, beating her to it. He peers up at her. “I’d much rather just… _show_ you how I feel than talk about it.”

“I know.” Aelin kisses the top of his head, laughing softly when he grumbles. Of course, she knows that. Aelin knows Rowan better than anyone else knows Rowan, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “And you’re very good at _showing_ me.”

Rowan picks his head back up to flash her a smile that’s all male pride. “Yeah, I am.”

It makes her cackle. “ _Yes_ ,” Aelin tells him through the laughter, “but I do get frustrated, sometimes, when you don’t share with me.”

Rowan looks at her sadly. “I know.”

“But what really gets under my skin is when you shut down on me,” Aelin whispers, afraid to rekindle their argument from last night. She treads carefully. “I feel like I spend all of our time together telling you _everything_ , but you won’t tell me when something I say hurts your feelings.

“At least, not without sitting on it for a few days—that drives me totally crazy.” Aelin wills herself to look Rowan in the eyes. He stares back at Aelin intently, the best of listeners. She swallows back her nerves. “It also makes me feel sick, thinking you’re mad at me or whatever, but I don’t know what I did.”

Rowan looks alarmed by the admission. “I was never mad at you.”

“I know,” Aelin says around a bitter smile, “but it didn’t feel that way at the time.”

“Fuck.” Rowan sighs, pressing his face into her skin. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Can we make a deal?” Aelin brushes the stray hair from his face when he looks back up at her.

“Depends. Does this deal involve you and my daughter conning me into another princess tea party?” A smile breaks free on his face, and Rowan leans into the palm of her hand. “It’s unfair when you two gang up on me. I’m already fucking hopeless when it comes to the two of you separately.”

“No, it doesn’t.” A smile. “And before you ask, I absolutely will not promise never to do it again.”

Smiling, Aelin leans in to kiss him, a little deeper than warranted. Rowan hums into her mouth. He shifts his weight so he’s above her with his fingers tangled in her hair and his knee between hers. The fire between them roars to life in Aelin’s veins, and she whimpers into his mouth, desperate for more. Rowan is more than happy to provide.

“Wait. Stop.” Aelin pulls away from him, gasping for air.

It’s been weeks since the last time that Aelin and Rowan slept in the same bed. It’s just now occurred to her that they missed out on their private reunion the night before because of the fight. Aelin finds it very tempting to go back in for another kiss. For more. They have time apart to make up for.

Rowan seems to share her thoughts, and Aelin lets out a shaky breath as she turns her head to dodge the next kiss. “No more distracting me,” she says. His pout makes her laugh. “I’m serious, _and_ it leads me to my next point: the deal.”

His face turns serious. Aelin knows that he’s listening when she speaks. “No more evading the hard shit—that means no running or shutting down. We’re grownups now.”

The grimace that contorts Rowan’s face at the word “grownup” makes Aelin laugh, and she nearly forgets all about the point. Gods, he’s so cute, and fuck, how she’s missed him.

Rowan’s eyes are soft as he watches her laugh. “Deal. Or, at least, I promise to try. Like I told you last night,” he sighs, “it’s a bad habit. But I… don’t want to make you feel like you’ve messed up or that I’m angry at you, though.” His green eyes fill with intensity. “So, I promise to get better about it, to be less of a jackass.”

“That right there, too.” Aelin gives her boyfriend a pointed look. “You have to stop that, Rowan.” He raises a brow. “I hate listening to you put yourself down all of the time. You’re so much more amazing than you give yourself credit for.”

A smile threatens his lips. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.” This time Aelin gives in to the need to press her lips to his, but she pulls away before Rowan can deepen it. “You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever come into my life.” Her voice clogs with emotion, and unexpected tears burn her eyes. Aelin wasn’t expecting to cry. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

“Baby,” Rowan coos. He presses a kiss to her lips, and he looks a little embarrassed when he asks, “Can we switch places? I just really want to hold you right now.”

“Sure.” Aelin sniffles, more than happy to do so.

They shuffle around in the bed so that Rowan can lay on his back and hold Aelin. Her smile is shy as she lays her head against his chest, but Aelin forgets all about the shyness when Rowan hooks her leg over his hips.

She laughs at him. “You like this position, huh?”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Rowan says with a sly smile that makes Aelin shiver. He pretends not to notice, but the spark in his green eyes tells her that he did.

“This way…” Rowan pauses, piquing Aelin’s interest. “To me, this makes you feel safe. Secure.” Rowan’s face is a little sheepish, as if he feels like he’s admitting to something very silly. “I feel like I’ve got you. _I’m_ keeping you safe.”

“You are.” Aelin nuzzles his neck, getting more comfortable. “I do feel safe with you.” She can sense Rowan’s smile more than she can see it. “You’ve always made me feel that way—like I could always come to you whenever or talk to you about anything.”

Rowan doesn’t say anything in response, but he does lean in for a kiss that Aelin is more than happy to receive.

“You’ve always been my calm in the storm,” Aelin tells him when they part. “Sorry to always bring you such chaos.” She makes a face. “You feel like you’re to blame for so much, but I _know_ I’m to blame for a lot of the trouble in your life.”

Rowan’s gaze is somber when he looks at her, brushing a lock of hair out of her face and staring her in the eyes. Usually, the couple would let that comment pass by without confronting it, but they’ve just agreed not to let that happen anymore. No more tiptoeing around their old problems and insecurities; they’ll face them head-on. Together.

“I always knew,” she says. Aelin plays with the collar of Rowan’s shirt and avoids looking at him. “That Lyria didn’t like our friendship. Didn’t like _me_ very much.” She bites her lip and chances a look his way. Rowan waits silently. “And I’m well aware I did next to nothing to change that—to make her feel welcome.”

“That’s not—” Rowan frowns. Aelin knows that it’s because he wants to lie and make her feel better, which she appreciates, but it’s not entirely all that helpful.

“C’mon, Rowan. We both know she was happier once I was out of the picture.” Her smile is wan. “She thought I was bringing you down, right?” Rowan’s expression is careful; Aelin raises a brow in challenge. “Are you going to deny that she called me toxic?

“I mean, I totally get it,” she adds before Rowan can defend anyone. “I was in way over my head with the drinking and the drugs, and I didn’t care to listen to any of you telling me that I was fucking up. I _was_ toxic, or at least, I was acting that way.

“And then that night, I took the Wyrd while Dorian was sleeping.” Aelin scoffs hatefully at the memory. “Arobynn has never once acted in my favor, but I decided then that I just… didn’t care. I wanted to get lost, and I didn’t care who it hurt, especially myself."

Silence falls between them at her admission. Aelin ducks her head from view and fights the flush that threatens to burn her ears off. Even after all of this time, all of the years, since that day, Aelin still feels shame for it. She feels ashamed for a lot of it.

“I had no idea that you were listening when she said that.” Rowan breaks the silence at last. “But I guess that explains why you locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out.”

“I was embarrassed,” Aelin admits. “And I thought she was right on some level.”

“Aelin,” Rowan scolds her softly, cupping her face. “ _No_.” His gaze burns her face.

“I think that Lyria believed she was protecting me—from you.” He frowns at some memory. “She didn’t understand us, our friendship, which is fair because I barely understood us by that point, and what she did understand, Lyria was… jealous of.”

Aelin’s head snaps up at that, so Rowan explains, “Since Day One, you and I just _got_ each other. It’s why I hated you so much at the beginning; I didn’t like that you could see right through me.” His smile is nostalgic, and for some reason, it makes Aelin laugh. “But it was so much more than that. It is so _much_ more than that.”

Rowan kisses her nose and brushes away the tear that threatens the corner of her eye. Aelin has always hated that she’s such a crier, but her boyfriend seems to find it pretty endearing, as long as he can ascertain the reason for the waterworks. It freaked him out the first time she bawled after sex, but, such as now, he’s learned to chuckle and pull her close.

“It’s true that you’ve shaken things up since coming into my life. I had no idea what hell the orange-haired girl Lorcan dragged to practice would bring me; she turned my world upside down.” Rowan's smile is wry. “But at the same time, my life would be very boring without you in it. Pretty fucking empty, too.”

“Oh! I should totally dye my hair orange again,” Aelin says, changing the subject. Rowan rolls his eyes at her. “ _What_? I make a very cute redhead.”

“You do,” he agrees nonchalantly. She flashes him a big smile. “But I think my favorite was that time you let Aedion help you, and he picked out that neon blue when you asked for green.”

Aelin grins at the memory. It’s one of the few times that she’s ever actually seen _fear_ on her cousin’s face.

“I was so pissed at him,” she says. Rowan barks a laugh; her boyfriend is probably considering that to be an understatement. Aelin nearly murdered her cousin. “But it did kind of look rad.”

“You did not just say rad.” Rowan snorts. “You’re so lame.”

“ _Lame?_ ” Aelin shrieks.

Rowan merely grins at her offended tone. Her boyfriend almost enjoys irritating her as much as Aelin enjoys getting under his skin. Almost.

Aelin glares at him. “That’s not what you call me when I’ve got your dick in my mouth.”

“No, it isn’t.” His smile is sharp. “I’ve got a few other names for you then.”

The heat in Rowan’s gaze erases all of Aelin’s outrage. Suddenly, her mouth feels dry, and she licks her lips to try and wet them. Rowan’s green eyes track the little movement, and he mirrors it, staring at her lips intently.

The moment shatters when Aelin’s stomach growls, loud and embarrassing. Rowan bursts into laughter at that and Aelin narrows her eyes at him, offended again.

“ _What_?” Aelin hisses. “Emotions make me hungry.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rowan tells her slyly. His grin only grows when Aelin pinches his side in retribution. “I’ve never met anyone who could eat their feelings quite like you.”

“Stop making fun of me,” Aelin cries. “It’s not nice.”

Rowan presses a kiss to her frown instead of apologizing, and Aelin huffs, refusing to respond to it. The man chuckles, unaffected by the rejection; Rowan smiles at her like she’s his best friend.

“It’s time for mimosas,” Aelin announces, “and I’m going to go without you. I’ll let the guys know, so they can come and get me. You, on the other hand, can starve for all I care.”

Rowan barks a laugh. Petulant, Aelin reaches for her phone.

“Wait.” Rowan gently takes the phone from her hands to stop her, and Aelin archers her brow in curiosity. He sends her a mischievous grin that makes her heart race. Rowan isn’t troublesome very often, but that doesn’t stop Aelin from loving it when the mood strikes him.

“What?” she asks when he takes too long to explain himself.

“How would you like to pretend to be a normal person?” Rowan’s eyes are bright. “For an hour or two?”

“ _Rowan Whitethorn_.” Aelin pretends to be scandalized, but she can’t suppress her laughter for long. “Are you suggesting that I _sneak out_?”

He pretends to consider it, then says, “I think I have a baseball cap that will fit you.”

##  **The Cadre’s Lorcan Salvaterre Goes On a Beach Vacation.**

“Gods, I feel like I’m a teenager again.” Aelin flashes a grin at Rowan over her shoulder, relishing in the excitement she feels. “And I just want you to know that if we get caught, I’m totally pointing fingers at you.”

Rowan barks a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds fair.”

As they wait for the elevator to reach the ground floor, Aelin finds that she can’t stop giggling, feeling like a schoolgirl. Rowan happily wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing his smile into her neck, and Aelin savors the contact. She leans back into him and sighs happily.

They both know that they’ve only just cracked the surface of what they need to talk about. There’s a long talk ahead of them yet, but Aelin appreciates that they’re able to press pause. She and Rowan can take a break and enjoy each other’s company at the same time. It’s so nice.

And it feels so… healthy. Aelin has never had a relationship like this before, and certainly not one that she would call healthy. Not that Aelin exactly has many to compare with. Sam was a great boyfriend, but Aelin was self-aware enough to know that she made a terrible girlfriend. The trend only continued throughout her other flings, as well.

But with Rowan, it’s different. A lot of things are different. Even Aelin is different.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Rowan murmurs before kissing her cheek.

She flashes him a wide grin. “About how much I love you.”

The smile she receives in return is blinding. Rowan ducks his head quickly in an attempt to be rid of it, and he bites his lip to prevent it from returning when he lifts his head. Aelin smiles and tugs at his collar to bring his lips to hers, freeing that bottom lip with her teeth. She kisses him thoroughly, praying that nobody is watching the elevator camera that closely. They put on quite the show.

“I’m never going to get used to that.” Rowan’s voice is hoarse, and Aelin is struck with pride at having such an effect on the stoic Rowan Whitethorn.

“Get used to what?” Aelin teases. “Me kissing you? Or me saying that I love you?”

“Both,” he says without hesitation.

Rowan runs his hands down her arms and releases her as the elevator comes to a stop. He taps Aelin playfully on the nose as the doors begin to open, and then Rowan yanks the brim of her hat down her forehead, blocking her vision. She squeals in protest, but Aelin knows that in doing so, the cap keeps her face from view.

“Alright, Clark Kent,” he says. “We’re going to sneak out the side entrance. That mean doorman of mine seems to have something of a soft spot for you.”

Aelin snickers. “That’s what happens when you’re _nice_ to people, Rowan.” Her boyfriend scoffs at the ridiculous idea, and a smile spreads across her face. Aelin adopts her best Evalin Galathynius imitation. “You catch more flies with honey.”

“I don’t want to catch flies,” Rowan complains as he leads. His face is disgusted.

Aelin laughs at her boyfriend, following him towards the side entrance of the building. It’s a door that Aelin has grown familiar with in the past eight months; she and her team have made use of it quite a bit, coming and going from Rowan’s apartment in secret.

As anticipated, Rowan’s doorman is waiting patiently for them by the door. The doorman sends Rowan a polite smile, and then he unlocks the side door to allow them out. He turns a shier smile on Aelin. “The coast is clear, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Thank you! You’re my favorite.” Aelin gives the man a big smile. To her delight, the doorman blushes. As the door closes and locks behind them, she sends her boyfriend a pointed look.

Rowan huffs. “Flies are annoying—just like people!”

“Baby,” Aelin sighs, linking her fingers with his, “I think you’re overthinking the idiom.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius’s** _ **Dear Society**_ **Album Goes for Platinum.**


	55. Chapter 55

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each time I type the chapter number in the header, I freak out about how far this fic has come. It’s crazy, and I’m in awe. I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to wrap this story up—don’t panic, yet, we have time—but it’s been giving me feelings.

##  **Where Has Aelin Galathynius Been Hiding?**

No one notices her. With every step Aelin takes as they roam the city, she expects someone—anyone—to catch her or Rowan or her _and_ Rowan. She waits with bated breath for the hell to ensue at the sight of them out on a brunch date. The cameras. The mob of people. The invasion of privacy. The questions that are no one’s business.

But no one does.

It leaves Aelin wondering—no, obsessing—over her appearance. Maybe she’s just so hideous right now that nobody can recognize the usually glammed up pop star, the blonde bombshell that seized Doranelle by storm with her glitz and glam. Aelin doesn’t think anyone really remembers her for her Cadre days, which is odd, to say the least.

Aelin frowns. She can’t possibly be that unrecognizable in a pair of dark skinny jeans and Rowan’s old hoodie, right? What’s happened to her?

“There’s no way this stupid hat trick actually _worked!_ ” Aelin cries as they return to his apartment. Rowan closes the door safely behind them, laughing softly at her outrage. When she throws the hat onto the entryway table, Rowan rolls his eyes at Aelin’s antics.

The woman starts to google her own name, a glutton for punishment. “This shit only works in the movies.”

“Your life kind of is a movie,” Rowan muses.

He gently pries the phone away from her, pocketing it. Aelin frowns at him, but Rowan only smiles, shrugging off his jacket. The weather outside hardly calls for a coat of any kind, but Aelin needed it to remain incognito. Rowan wore one because of the grey clouds threatening the city. All in all, it appeared that neither of them required one.

Aelin can’t help the way that her eyes snag on Rowan’s arms as they move. The mimosas may have been a bad idea, Aelin considers. She’s already spent half of the morning aching for Rowan’s skin on hers; the alcohol has just made her incapable of hiding it.

Rowan’s expression darks when he notices her attention. “Baby?”

“Huh?” Aelin’s attention snaps away from those strong shoulders of his to his equally handsome face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.” She flashes him a sly smile. “I was too busy checking you out.”

Rowan makes no effort to hide his smug smile. “I asked if you wanted to go back to bed?”

Aelin’s heart races, and her blood heats in her veins. “Yes, please.”

“So polite.” A dark chuckle escapes him. Rowan enters her space, and suddenly, all Aelin can feel and smell and see is Rowan. She fidgets under his attention, and his smile only gets cockier the longer it takes for her to look him in the eyes.

A knuckle lifts her chin. Rowan’s green eyes smile at her still. “Baby,” he purrs. “C’mere.”

Aelin sighs into the kiss that he gives her, eyes fluttering closed and hands wrapping around his neck. Rowan’s such a good kisser; it’s easy to get lost in the moment, to sink into the feeling of being in his arms. She needed him. This. Them.

Aelin whimpers as Rowan drags his hands down her back; the heat of his hands burns through her clothes. Aelin moans loudly into his mouth when Rowan grabs her ass without, but they refuse to break their kiss. Rowan tangles his fingers in her hair, and Aelin arches into him, humming into the kiss.

“Does this count as evading?” Aelin asks, breaking off the kiss at last. Rowan leans in for another kiss, and she accepts it happily before saying, “‘Cause I meant what I said, and this feels a lot like evading.”

Rowan huffs. “We can stop if you want.”

“I don’t want to,” she says quickly, making him smile, “but I also don’t want to avoid everything and fall into bed with you. I don’t want to leave town with this unfinished.”

Aelin’s words snuff out the fire. Rowan smiles remorsefully at her, peeling himself away from her reluctant fingers.

“Come,” he says, “let’s go sit on the couch.”

“You act as if the couch will persuade us to behave.” Rowan snorts, but Aelin can’t help the sass that escapes her. “In fact, the couch sounds like more fun.”

Rowan’s eyes light up at that. “I’ll have to remember that for later.”

Aelin winks at him. She waits for her boyfriend to claim a spot on the couch, and then she drops into Rowan’s laugh, causing him to grunt in surprise and smile at the same time. He rolls his eyes at her playfully, but Rowan adjusts the grip he has on her without comment. A hand locks on her thigh to keep Aelin securely in his lap.

“Where were we?” He thinks aloud.

Aelin pouts. “I was about to get laid.”

“Later,” Rowan promises.

They fall silent, and Aelin waits nervously as Rowan thinks, a frown wrinkling his forehead. She knows exactly what they were talking about, but Aelin still dreads bringing the topic back up—even if it was her idea.

“Lyria was wrong about you,” Rowan says. “But I was wrong, too. I should never have just rolled over like I did, let her think whatever she wanted about you.” Another frown. “And about us.” He bites his lip, considering his next words heavily. It makes Aelin’s heart stutter with nerves.

“You were—as I’m sure you can imagine—a sore subject in our relationship, but that’s not an excuse.” Rowan meets her eyes, looking very embarrassed. “Only you and the gods know what it was like between the two of you. I would never presume to understand what it was like for either of you.”

Another heavy Rowan Signature Sigh. “Lyria and I—We just didn’t talk about it. We just ignored it. Until we couldn’t anymore.”

Aelin hates that she has to ask. She wishes she were less nosey. “What does that mean?”

Rowan sighs heavily. “The wedding.”

The words hang heavy between them. Aelin’s heart begins to race for a different reason, and her hands become clammy with fear rather than excited nerves. She can feel him look at her, watching her, and it takes Aelin a moment to gather the courage to meet Rowan’s gaze. Aelin isn’t entirely convinced that she’s ready to tackle that topic; she doesn’t know if she’ll _ever_ be able to talk about it.

“When you didn’t come, I—” He chokes on the thought. “We all knew that I wasn’t marrying Lyria for the right reasons.” Rowan’s eyes are guarded, and his words are careful. He stares at his lap. “You were the only one with the balls to say as much.”

“I just couldn’t do it.” Aelin’s voice sounds small when she speaks, and Rowan strengthens his grip on her, hugging her close as she sits on his lap. Neither of them looks at the other. “I couldn’t watch you marry her, but I also couldn’t explain myself, so I just… ran for it.”

“It killed me,” Rowan admits quietly, “when you said you didn’t want to be my friend anymore. I mean, I understand why you did it. I understood at the time even, I think, but when I got your texts, it just hit me.

“I guess I just thought I’d always have you, even if it wasn’t how I wanted you.” Rowan grimaces. “That’s shitty, I know, and I _absolutely_ took you for granted—but you always made it so _clear_ that you weren’t interested.” Aelin makes a face at that, and he chuckles. “Look, you’ve got one hell of a poker face when it suits you, Aelin. I read your every attempt to hide your feelings exactly how you wanted me to: that you didn’t have any.”

“Well, that’s just fucked,” Aelin grumbles. Rowan finally cracks a grin, but it fades too soon for Aelin’s liking.

“But you weren’t asking for a little space or time.” Rowan’s green eyes go far away, returning to an old memory. “You wanted out; you didn’t want to be in my life anymore, didn’t want to be my friend, and that… Fuck, it broke my heart, Aelin.”

“I doubt it helps, but it broke my heart, too.” Aelin rests her head on his shoulder and squeezes his arm. “I just couldn’t do it, Rowan. I couldn’t watch you live your life, grow your little family—without me.”

“I think that makes it worse, somehow.” Rowan lets out a shaky breath and kisses her forehead. “But I appreciate the effort.”

Aelin snorts softly, feeling exhausted from their heart to heart. “You’re welcome.”

The pair lapse into silence. Rowan holds Aelin tightly, and together, they both seek comfort in the other’s embrace. Aelin draws idle patterns against Rowan’s scalp, and his thumb makes lazy circles against her leg. It’s quiet and comfortable.

Rowan is the one to break the silence. Again. Aelin has to give the man credit; he’s trying to share more. She makes a note to tell him how much she appreciates it.

“I’m not as good without you in my life,” he tells her softly. “After the wedding… I was angry and bitter about how you ended things. I know it affected my marriage—not that that is any of your fault, whatsoever—but my attitude definitely helped bring my marriage to an end.

“I was just so _mad at you_.” Rowan lets out a breath. “It was completely unfair of me, but I was. I was _pissed_. You were supposed to be my best fucking friend, and you bailed on me the night before my wedding. Fuck. You wouldn’t even answer the door, Aelin.”

“I wanted to,” Aelin admits, “but I think I was afraid of what I would do if I did. Though, I know Lysandra really wanted to open the door herself.”

“Lys was there?” Rowan looks surprised as Aelin nods. “Traitor.”

She can’t help but laugh at his disgruntled tone. “I’ll have you know that she’s our biggest cheerleader. Well, almost. Evalin Galathynius may just have her beat.” The corner of Rowan’s mouth quirks up at that; he and Evalin have always gotten along, that’s no secret.

“I do know that whatever I decided to do would have been extremely stupid of me,” Aelin sighs. Rowan raises a brow in a silent question, and she answers his confused expression with a wry smile.

“Uh, kissing my best friend on his wedding day seems appropriate for Past Aelin.” She laughs bitterly. “Gods, _that_ would have gone well. You were already so mad at me for the bender—Fuck. I can only imagine the hell that would have unleashed.”

“I would’ve flipped out,” Rowan tells her. There’s no malice in his voice. No horror. No judgment. “It would’ve been both the best and worst thing to ever happen to me.” She must look confused because he explains, “I was on my way to marry the mother of my child. Having you kiss me…

“It would’ve been nearly as bad as you telling me not to marry Lyria, that I was making a mistake.” He releases a heavy sigh. “It was one thing to worry about it in my head, but to have you say it—

“And then you said that you couldn’t be my friend anymore.” Rowan frowns. “I knew that I couldn’t have you the way I wanted—that’s what I thought,” he corrects at her expression, “but it was okay. I’d come to terms with that already because I’d still always have _you—my_ best friend.

“I convinced myself that it was because you didn’t care—total bullshit, I know—and started just to let myself hate you.” Rowan’s face is strained, and he won’t look Aelin in the eye. She brushes her fingers through his hair, a feeble attempt to give him comfort without interrupting him.

When Rowan doesn’t say anymore, Aelin meets his sorry expression with one of her own. “I should’ve just told you how I felt that night at your apartment, but I was afraid to ruin everything. Though, arguably, I ruined it all anyway.”

Rowan’s face turns earnest. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he swears. “You did what was best for you, and I will never fault you for that. Do I regret the time we wasted?” He swipes a thumb across her cheek, tender and sweet. “That I wasn’t there for you? Absolutely. But we came out the other side—for better or for worse.

“Besides.” He lets loose a smile just for her. “I rather liked our first kiss. It was a good one.” He grimaces suddenly. “Except for the part where I nearly chickened out. Again.”

Aelin laughs. “It was a _very_ good kiss.” She fans herself for emphasis, and Rowan’s smile turns proud. “Definitely my favorite first kiss.”

“Good.” Rowan’s expression is childish. “It better be.”

Giggling, Aelin leans in for a kiss. Rowan must be feeling playful, though, because he frowns sternly, resisting her every attempt to get him to kiss her back. Aelin twists in his lap to straddle him, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Still, her boyfriend maintains his poker face.

“Rowan.” Aelin pouts, presses her lips to his one more time. “ _Baby_.”

It works like a charm. Rowan’s face breaks into a smile, and the next time Aelin kisses him, he returns it fervently. She sighs into his mouth, arching her body into his and tangling her fingers into his hair. Rowan’s hands are warm as they slide down her back and then up underneath her stolen hoodie. When Aelin murmurs his name into his lips, Rowan’s chuckle tickles its way down her spine.

“I love you,” Rowan says between kisses, “Aelin.”

She gasps when his lips seek out her neck. “I love you more.”

Rowan huffs, leaning back to glare at her. “Not everything is a competition.”

“Spoken like a loser,” Aelin challenges, impossible until her dying day. Rowan’s eyes spark with mischief; she knows what his plan is before he’s even moved. “Don’t you _dare_. Rowan Whitethorn, I swear I’ll— I’ll scream.”

“But I like it when I make you scream.” A naughty smile as he turns them over. Aelin’s breath whooshes out of her as her back collides with the couch cushion; Rowan pins her to the couch with his hips.

“Stop,” she gasps as Rowan tickles her sides. Tears pool in her eyes. “ _Stopstopstop_.” Aelin struggles in his grasp, but Rowan is stronger. It’s something she usually likes about him, his size and strength, but right now, she despises the unfair advantage.

“I hate you,” she gasps. “The worst boyfriend ever!” Aelin scowls at him. Or tries to. It’s hard to do with all of the involuntary laughter. “I’m going to have to break up with you.”

“After everything, that’s the final straw? Tickling?” Rowan’s smile is troublesome. “Not my bad attitude? Or your mean streak?”

Rowan spares her finally, and Aelin inhales sharply, catching her breath. When she looks at him, a mean barb on the tip of her tongue, Rowan is smiling softly. With love. She forgets whatever it was she was going to say and tilts her head to receive his kiss.

##  **Will Aelin Galathynius Attend the Erilea Music Awards?**

They stay like that for a while, curled up on the couch and making out like teenagers. Aelin’s hands are up the back of Rowan’s shirt, and the places he’s kissing have Aelin seeing stars. She whispers his name to draw his mouth back to hers.

“Aelin.” Rowan’s voice is soft. And it’s all he has to say—just her name.

“I like kissing you,” Aelin tells him when they part to catch their breath.

Rowan’s cheeks are flushed, and his lips are swollen from kissing her. He looks good like this, Aelin thinks. She likes that he gets just as much enjoyment out of fooling around on the couch as Aelin does. It’s not just about sex. It’s about connecting.

“I like kissing you, too,” he says before he does just that.

Aelin and Rowan remain intertwined until their smiles start to get in the way of kissing. They try their best not to break apart, but the smile threatening Aelin’s lips makes it hard to keep kissing Rowan. She gasps when Rowan gives up, chuckling at her smile and kissing down her neck. The fire rekindles, and Aelin locks her legs around Rowan’s middle to keep him close.

“Aelin.” This time her name is a warning.“I have to get Thea, baby. I can’t.”

Rowan gives her a look as she shrugs off his shirt, but Aelin runs her hands down his torso, humming in acknowledgment. Rowan groans when her fingers start to play at the button of his jeans, but his hands wrap around hers and gently pull them away.

He kisses away the pout. “Don’t make me embarrass myself.” The huskiness of his voice makes Aelin shiver. “I’m already the loser at the pickup line. Don’t make me creepy, too.”

She laughs at that. “You’re not a loser.” They share a look, thinking of their earlier conversation when Aelin was the one calling him such names. “You’re a rockstar.”

When Rowan huffs in disbelief, Aelin hones in on the unspoken insecurity immediately. All thoughts of having her way with her boyfriend disappear and Aelin sits up, running a comforting hand down his arm. Rowan looks away from her.

“Rowan,” she says gently, “is it that bad?”

He shrugs indifferently. It’s a terrible job of trying to play off the admission.

Aelin wiggles free from underneath him, laughing light when Rowan frowns in confusion, disappointment shining in his eyes. “Okay,” she says, tugging at her boyfriend’s arm to get him to stand as well. “Let’s go face the evil mom’s together.”

Rowan looks incredulous. “Why?”

Aelin only rolls her eyes at him. “ _Because_ my boyfriend is getting made fun of on the playground, and I’m going to stand up for him.” Rowan sends her a crooked smile; it makes Aelin feel defensive. “What?”

“I like when you call me that,” he admits, somewhat shyly. “Boyfriend.”

“You better.” Aelin picks his shirt up off the ground and tosses it at him. “Now get dressed. No one else is allowed to see all of that. Only me.”

Rowan grins, searching for the hem of the shirt to put it on. “Yes, ma’am.”

##  **Who Has Signed To Damaris Records?**

Like before, no one appears to notice Aelin and Rowan during the walk to Thea’s daycare. It’s eerie. Aelin can’t remember the last time that she walked around this city without anyone recognizing her; it’s been a few years, at least.

Weirdly, no one gives Rowan a second look, having ditched his jacket. Anyone could look at him and see that he’s Rowan Whitethorn, former Lead Guitarist for The Cadre, but they don’t. Aelin is glad for it, though, even if it makes her worried, too. Will going official cause this blissful anonymity to end for him?

“I need to ask you something,” Aelin tells Rowan. She leans into his side, smiling as he wraps an arm around her casually. Like it’s no big deal. “And I need you to be completely honest with me.”

Rowan laughs. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I’m a pathological liar?”

But Rowan has noticed her edginess; he pulls her infinitely closer, guarding her against the unspoken dangers of walking around without her security. People are fucking crazy, and Aelin’s team would go ballistic if they knew what they were doing.

Aelin scoffs at him, swatting him lightly. “How shitty do I look right now? Like on a scale from one to ten?”

“Depends. Is one good, or is it bad?” Rowan asks, playing along. “I never know which is supposed to be which.”

“One is what I look like before an awards show.” Rowan sends her a pointed face, and Aelin narrows her eyes, adding, “ _After_ Manon has had her way with me—so good. Asshole.” Aelin glares at his answering laugh.

“Ten is that time you found me passed out on Lorcan’s hotel floor,” she continues, smiling at the old memory. “After we all let Vaughan buy the alcohol.”

Rowan laughs at that. “Well, you are wearing my shirt and not Fen’s.” A proud smile. “So, I’d call that a definite improvement.”

When he starts to consider her question, Aelin gapes at him. Her boyfriend was not supposed to take the question _this_ seriously. Now Aelin is just offended.

“A 2.” Rowan’s somber face breaks into a smile. “But only because you’re not wearing that lipstick I like.”

“Fuck.” He arches a brow at the reply, and Aelin shakes her head. “You really are a liar. A great boyfriend,” she amends, “but such a _liar_.”

Rowan rolls his eyes at her, and he squeezes Aelin’s shoulders as they walk. “I always think you look great, Aelin. In case you haven’t noticed—” A pointed look. “—I’m very attracted to you.”

Aelin snorts. “That’s shocking.”

“What’s this about, Aelin?” Rowan asks, ignoring her sass. “No one’s watching us, and if they have a problem with my shirt, then they can go fuck themselves. I think it looks good on you.”

“That’s just it.” She can’t help but check her shoulder one more time. But the flash of light Aelin thought was a camera turns out to be the reflection of the sun on a window. Rowan is watching her closely when she looks back at him, guilty. “No one has recognized me. How shitty do I look right now? That no one can recognize me?”

“You’d be surprised.” Rowan shrugs. “Most people don’t believe what’s right in front of them.” He sends her a look. “Without the entourage of assistants and scary men and camera flashes, people don’t take a second look. They don’t believe what’s right in front of them.”

“Huh.” Aelin thinks it over. “Well, shit.”

Aelin’s revelation falls to the wayside as the daycare comes into view. They’re a few minutes late, mostly because of Aelin, so the children are already out, lined up and waiting with their oversized backpacks, too big for their little bodies.

Damn, Aelin thinks, they’re so freaking cute.

Rowan squeezes Aelin’s shoulders one last time before letting go. She lingers behind as he makes his way towards the students, looking for Thea. Aelin watches from afar as Thea spots her dad, face brightening with excitement.

Thea breaks out of line, charging for Rowan with abandon, ignoring her teacher’s cries of protest. Aelin’s heart forgets how to work at the sight of her boyfriend’s answering smile. Rowan catches Thea easily, sweeping her into a hug as she jumps at him, and the Whitethorns break into laughter. Fondness overcomes Aelin.

And she’s not the only one admiring them, Aelin notices. Women with strollers and hands link to other toddlers watch the exchange with big smiles; a man carrying a diaper bag shares a knowing, appreciative smile with his friend.

Delight fills Aelin, and her face breaks into a huge grin at the realization. Rowan was such an idiot. Not a soul is judging the single father at the pickup line, at least not anywhere that Aelin could see. Her idiot boyfriend.

“ _Aelin!_ ” Thea cheers, having recently mastered the L sound in her name. Naturally, it’s the three-year-old who is the first to see right through Aelin’s disguise. Rowan’s daughter breaks free of him immediately, running Aelin’s way; the celebrity feels it when the people in the area start to place her. Shit.

But Thea only has eyes for Aelin. “I got a sticker in school today! Do you wanna see?”

“Uh, _yeah_.” Aelin flashes her a smile. She ignores the onlookers and focuses on Thea. “Why don’t you tell me about it over some frozen yogurt?”

Thea squeals and Rowan frowns fondly. Aelin takes both reactions as a yes.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Continues to Lay Low. Doranelle Fans Have Trouble Spotting the Doranelle Singer.**


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this as fluffy as absolutely possible. There’s a lot of feelings, but then I think we’ll be moving along? Maybe? We will see what they have in store for me... I don’t make the rules here.

##  **Spotted: Rowan Whitethorn Picks Up Daughter from Daycare—with Aelin Galathynius.**

“What are you smiling about?” Rowan narrows his eyes in Aelin’s direction.

Aelin beams at him. It takes a lot to resist the urge to kiss Rowan while they’re still out in public, but Thea blew her cover earlier at the daycare. Aelin can’t tell if someone is watching them, who might’ve finally tracked them down at the boardwalk. It’s disappointing to lose the anonymity, but it’s part of the deal. Become an A-List celebrity, lose all of your privacy.

Instead, Aelin aims her smile in Thea’s direction. The little girl is chasing the gulls down the walk, offering the tyrannical birds her yogurt; it’s a wonder none of them haven’t stolen the little paper cup from her small grip already. She’s certainly asking for trouble.

“Because,” Aelin says, feeling less guilty about her words by looking away from him, “I’m dating the Hot Dad.”

“The _what?_ ”

“The Hot Dad.” Aelin looks to him then, relishing in the confusion that mars his face. She knows it’s cruel of her to take such enjoyment, but Aelin has to admit that the afternoon has taken a spectacular turn, even with Thea ruining her disguise. Aelin arrived at that daycare prepared to fight Doranelle’s Elite, but instead, she watched them all check out her boyfriend.

Aelin points at Rowan with her spoon; her boyfriend looks at the utensil as if she’s just threatened him with bodily harm. “You’re the Hot Dad.”

Rowan’s eyebrows pinch together. _What?_

She takes a bite of froyo and wiggles her eyebrows at him suggestively. Aelin finds the conversation they’re having just delightful, but Rowan is horrified, his mouth dropping open in silent horror. He’ll probably never want to show his face at the pickup line again. There’s very little Rowan hates more than any kind of popularity or attention; it’s only made worse by acknowledging his attractiveness.

“I mean, I already knew it—” Aelin waves vaguely at Rowan’s body, flashing him an appreciative smile. He sends her a displeased look in return. “—but it’s totally confirmed now. Baby, the Moms were _salivating_ —a Dad or two, even. You’re the _Hot Dad_.”

“I am not the Hot Dad,” Rowan denies.

“You so are.” Aelin grins at the disgust on his face. “The other parents aren’t judging you, Rowan. They’re _checking you out_.”

She wrinkles her brow in thought. “There’s a term for it…”

“Stop.” Rowan’s face pleads for mercy. He’s having trouble looking her in the eye.

“Oh!” Aelin grins, feeling ruthless. “DILF.”

“I’m changing Thea’s daycare,” he decides, “and we’re breaking up.”

Aelin cackles. “You’ll still be hot.” Her smile is sharp. “You’ll just be lonely.” Another eyebrow wiggle turns the last bit dirty.

“I’m not hot.” Rowan releases an irritated breath.

“It’s okay, Rowan. I won’t tell anyone.” She smiles at him, fond as ever of her reserved boyfriend. “I’ll keep your secret, take it right to the grave.”

##  **Thea Whitethorn Feeds the Birds!**

Rowan lets them finish their sweets before ushering Aelin and Thea home. Aelin can tell that her boyfriend is a little concerned about her getting recognized at the daycare, so she makes herself as useful as possible. Thea remains oblivious and compliant, and they walk home in record time without incident.

Aelin sighs dramatically when her phone rings. They’ve just cleared the front door of Rowan’s apartment, and she sends him a look after checking her caller ID. It would seem that the couple has been finally be found out. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

It’s Essar. Aelin answers on speakerphone, meeting Rowan’s eye. The assistant asks, “Did you sneak around Doranelle today?”

“I did,” Aelin admits. “Twice.”

Rowan looks apologetic. Aelin waves him off, and the father gives her space, herding Thea into the living room. Fleetfoot follows the little girl, excitedly; they grabbed the dog on the way home. Apparently, Aelin’s boyfriend enrolled her dog in doggie daycare. It was adorable if a little odd.

“I’ve been told to scold you thoroughly,” the assistant informs her dryly. “So.” A dramatic pause. “Consider yourself thoroughly scolded.”

Aelin laughs. “I’ll never do it again, Mom. Promise.”

“Cool.” There’s a pointed pause. “The media is asking for a comment or two. Or, like, a thousand.”

“And?”

“Nesryn denied them all,” Essar says cooly, “but I figured you would want a heads up. I, uh, think they might be catching on to the two of you—more than they already were. I’m afraid things might start getting a little tight for Rowan.”

Guilt floods Aelin at the thought. It’s exactly what she’s been afraid of happening. Small mercies that Rowan moved into a more secure apartment, but just how much was this going to shake up his life? Thea’s?

Aelin sighs into the receiver. Another thing for them to talk about.

“Should I give Ress or Brullo a call?” Essar asks gently. After so long, the assistant can nearly read Aelin’s thoughts as well as Rowan. “I can have them swing by the building. Keep an eye out, but I think there need to be some plans made.”

“Hold that thought,” Aelin says. “I need to check with Rowan first.”

“Okay.” Essar sounds very sorry. “Let me know what you two decide.”

“I will.” Aelin sighs. “Thanks, Es.”

##  **_No Comment._** **Aelin Galathynius’s Team Declines Questions About Rowan Whitethorn.**

Answering the phone sends Aelin down the rabbit hole. Essar has a slew of questions and concerns for her boss, and Aelin dutifully answers them, taking refuge in Rowan’s music room while she works. The Whitethorns go about their afternoon routine without her; Thea only bursts through the door a handful of times, her father guiltily trailing after her. He must be working hard to keep his daughter out of Aelin’s way.

A few hours have passed by the time Aelin calls it quits. She abandons her phone and laptop, deciding that if anyone needs to get a hold of her, they can knock on Rowan’s front door and deal with her broody boyfriend. The apartment is eerily quiet when Aelin searches for her little family. Even Fleetfoot has abandoned her for something more interesting.

“It was funny, Daddy!” Thea’s voice leads Aelin towards the kitchen. She should’ve known that’s where she’d find them. That particular room seemed to be the household’s heart; Aelin suspected it had something to do with Thea and Aelin’s appetites.

“Oh, really?” Rowan asks his daughter.

Aelin smiles at the sight of the father-daughter duo. She watches as Thea animatedly recounts a story to Rowan with little to no context, but Rowan listens patiently, reacting at the appropriate parts much to his daughter’s delight.

He notices Aelin watching and sends her a soft smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Aelin flops into the stool beside Thea. She shoots the little girl a wink and grins as Thea bursts into giggles; she’s an easy audience, that one. Aelin keeps her around for the ego boost.

Aelin looks to Rowan. “Nothing too terrible, but—” A frown. “—I think we need to talk over some logistics.”

Rowan looks concerned. “Okay, we—”

“Want a cookie, Aelin?” Thea interrupts.

The blonde eyes the toddler’s outstretched hand with skepticism. She just manages not to gag at the sight of the half-eaten, mushy cookie in the girl’s hands. She shares a look with Rowan, and he laughs at the horror he sees in her eyes.

Aelin turns a smile on Thea. “No, thank you.”

“Okay.” The girl shoves the mushy cookie into her own mouth, unconcerned, and Aelin gapes at Rowan. The father appears to be struggling not to break into laughter. Kids are gross. Aelin had always heard as much, but it was something different to experience it.

“After dinner?” Rowan asks around a smile, referring to her comment about needing to talk.

Aelin nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool.” Rowan kisses the tops of both of their heads before getting to work on dinner. Aelin offers to help, but Rowan quickly turns her down, serving her a glass of wine and shooing her away instead. Aelin suspects that it has something to do with her less than stellar chopping skills. She’s tried to learn; she just… sucks.

The three of them get comfortable in the kitchen, and Rowan makes dinner. Aelin and Rowan chat about nothing for a while, but she notices Thea watching them from the corner of her eye. Thea’s big green eyes flick between the adults as they speak; it takes Aelin a moment to understand why she looks so concerned, remembering the night before.

“Rowan,” Aelin says the man’s name to attract his attention.

“Yeah, babe?” But he doesn’t look up from the stove.

Aelin doesn’t bother fighting the smile claiming her face, pleased by the casual use of the pet name. However, she does sigh pointedly and calls his name a second time; Rowan looks over his shoulder, eyebrows high with curiosity.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you last night,” she says. Rowan’s face communicates his confusion, and Aelin glances in Thea’s direction, explaining herself silently. His daughter watches them closely, brow furrowed just like her father’s when he gets focused.

“I lost my temper,” Aelin continues, “but I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

Rowan smiles softly at her, understanding shining in his eyes. He plays along. “I’m sorry, too.” Their earlier conversations hang in the air between them. Aelin knows that they’ve both already forgiven each other, and for more than just the fight, but still, it’s comforting to hear him say it again.

He adds, “I forgive you.”

“Me, too.” Aelin feels shy suddenly. It’s unnerving sometimes, the way Rowan looks at her.

“Hug it out!” Thea demands, sounding suspiciously like Fenrys Moonbeam.

Rowan grins at his daughter and holds his arms out in an invitation to Aelin. The blonde happily gets out of her seat to accept the hug, folding herself into his embrace. Rowan kisses the top of her head, and then he presses his lips to hers.

Thea stops them with a wrinkled nose. “Ewww!”

The adults laugh at the little girl’s outrage. Rowan’s face is full of mischief as he crosses the kitchen, leaning towards his daughter’s face to peck it with kisses. Aelin watches them fondly, smiling at them.

“No! Stop!” Thea’s giggles make it hard to believe she wants Rowan to do such a thing. “ _Daddy_! Gross! Ew!”

“Eww!” He echoes, tickling her sides and making Thea screech with joy. Aelin thinks she might just die from the overload of cuteness. “Gross!”

A smell catches Aelin’s attention, and she eyes the pot Rowan left unattended. “Babe, I think you’re burning something?” Her hands hover over the stove, lost about what to do. Aelin is afraid to do _anything_ , scared of the acrid smell tickling her nostrils. She’s not good with stoves. “Rowan?”

“Oh!” His green eyes are alarmed. “Shit.”

A small gasp. “Red word!”

Aelin giggles at Rowan’s scowl, unhappy about being corrected by his daughter. They should start a swear jar to fund their stash of chicken nuggets. Aelin smiles at the toddler. “I love you, Thea.”

“Love you, too!” Thea slides off the chair, bored and heading elsewhere. Fleetfoot is hot on her heels.

But Rowan starts at his daughter's words, his head whipping around to look at Aelin in shock. The blonde couldn’t suppress her smile if she tried, allowing it to spread wide across her cheeks and share the surprise with Rowan.

She could cry again, Aelin suspects. The surprised tears from last night have indeed returned; Thea saying the words to her a second time seems less like a fluke than it did yesterday.

_Did you hear that?_ Her eyes ask.

The softness in Rowan’s green eyes suggests that he did, and Aelin readily leans into his side as her boyfriend wraps an arm around her waist to hold her close. She gladly lets him hold her hostage, watching him cook and soaking in their time together.

It’s been a pretty good vacation.

##  **Fans Speculate About Aelin Galathynius’s Relationship.**

Rowan sets a glass of wine and a slice of chocolate hazelnut cake in front of Aelin. Delight surges through her at the sight of the cake, but Aelin frowns deeply at her indulgent boyfriend. Rowan merely smiles and takes a sip of his beer, waiting silently.

Thea plays happily in the next room, singing along to a movie and dressing Fleetfoot up in a feather boa. Aelin is tempted to join them in an attempt to avoid the conversation presenting itself, and if the way Rowan arches his brow is any indication, he’s seen right through her escape plan.

She sighs. “My team thinks they’re onto us.”

“Oh.” Rowan, to his credit, doesn’t panic like Aelin expects him to. He crosses his arms and frowns at nothing. “Well, that sure as hell took them long enough.”

Aelin gapes. “That’s it?”

Rowan shrugs. “Ace, we’ve been waiting for the shitstorm to hit.” His smile is wan. “You and I both knew it wouldn’t last forever.”

She whines at that. Rowan reaches across the table and links their fingers together, providing that little bit of comfort. Aelin doesn’t bother to hide her frustration. She growls, “They’re going to fuck everything up. It’s what _always_ happens.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Are you—” Rowan pauses, and Aelin knows it’s because he’s rephrasing his question more delicately. “Is it that you’re afraid for us?” He swallows. “Or are you… ashamed of us?”

“What?” Aelin nearly spills her wine, jolting forward in her chair. “Why would I ever be ashamed of you, Rowan?”

“Um.” Rowan bites his lip, looking caught. He says, “I know what it was like for you after you skipped the wedding. Or at least, I know what they all were saying about you.”

Aelin feels the blood drain out of her face. “Oh.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” Rowan releases an unsteady breath. “I certainly wouldn’t blame you if you were afraid of telling the world or if you wanted to keep it a secret.” His smile is wry. “I know I get worried about what those assholes will do to you when they find out—what they’ll say about you.”

Rowan notices her staring and meets it calmly. “Ae, I know how it affects you when the media shitstorm comes after you, though you pretend so hard that it doesn’t.”

“I—“ Aelin stops mid-sentence. In truth, she doesn’t know what she was going to say; it was likely another denial. “I am.” She sighs. “ _Bothered_ by it, that is. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Rowan, but I kind of care a lot when people don’t like me.”

She flails her arms, exasperated. “It’s literally my job to make people like me.”

“I know,” Rowan says, taking her frustration in stride. He squeezes her fingers. “Gods, I can only imagine what they’ll say. Because of our—” A grimace. “—history.”

Aelin lays her free hand on top of his. “I’m not ashamed of us,” she swears, “or our _history_ , but I am scared for us. More specifically, I’m scared about what my bullshit life will do to you and Thea. That little girl deserves to not be a spectacle. _You_ deserve not to be a spectacle.”

“So do you.” Rowan’s voice is firm. “But... I worry about Thea, too. I just… don’t want her to feel like her life has been upended. Again.”

Because Thea’s life had already changed drastically in the last year—twice. Once when her parents separated, and then again, when her mother died. Guilt brings tears to Aelin’s eyes, and she struggles to wrestle them into submission.

“Fuck.” She sniffs, refusing to let the tears fall. “I just ruin everything.”

“Hey,” Rowan says. His firm tone is a scolding within itself. “None of this is your fault, Aelin. No one ever thought you’d reach the level of success you have.”

“Gee,” Aelin says dryly, “thanks.”

Rowan spares her a smile, but his expression quickly becomes nostalgic. “You know, the band was totally a lost cause before you showed up.”

“Well, yeah.” Aelin grins at the memory of the first time she saw The Cadre play. “But that’s because you idiots were letting Lorcan sing. That bastard is tone-deaf.”

They both laugh at that, but Rowan quickly sobers. Those piercing green eyes of his stare her down in a way that makes Aelin nervous. “Seriously. Aelin, just look at me.” His smile turns self-deprecating. “I never thought my music was going to take me anywhere more than a few shitty club shows. I thought that was it—that was as far as I was going to go.”

Aelin opens her mouth to protest, incapable of letting Rowan put himself down like that, even about his past. Yet, he speaks again before she can defend him, “Ace, you were it. You changed _everything_ , and the band—”

The smile Rowan sends her is soft in a way that sends warmth through Aelin, all the way to her tiptoes. “Well, we all know how that played out.”

“And to think you hated me,” she reminds him playfully. The couple shares a secret smile over how far they’ve come. “Now I’m your best friend.”

Rowan leans across the table to kiss her in confirmation, and Aelin giggles against his lips until the kiss becomes a bit messy; it’s still a pretty great kiss. Aelin doesn’t want it to stop, but kissing Rowan from across the table is a difficult angle.

They separate, and Rowan tucks a lock of hair behind Aelin’s ear. “So… what do we want to do?”

Aelin’s happy smile turns guilty. “Uh, Essar says the team expects the media to start harassing you soon. The ‘Are they? Aren’t they?’ is more tempting than we anticipated.” She frowns, dreading the reaction to her next words. “They have suggested that we get you a… team.”

“Team?” Rowan looks confused, then horrified. “Like bodyguards?”

“Hey.” Aelin raises a brow at the sound of his outrage. “You’ve never complained once about me having ‘personal protection.’” Rowan rolls his eyes at her, stubborn to the core. “Why should it be different when it comes to you?”

“Because,” he challenges, “no one has ever sent me death threats—or broken into one of my fucking homes.”

The reminders make Aelin feel uneasy, and she forgets about fighting back with him. Rowan insisted that all of the trouble isn’t her fault, but it’s hard to believe such a thing when such facts are staring her back in the face.

It’s even harder to believe that Aelin could even pretend to live a normal life.

“Don’t beat yourself up over this, baby.” Rowan always reads her so well. He steals one of her hands again, kissing the back of it. “If it helps at all, you’re totally worth all the trouble.” She snorts, and Rowan smiles. “More than worth it.”

Still, Aelin shoots him a skeptical face. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Rowan says. A pause, and he spares a glance at Aelin’s ignored slice of cake. “So, are you going to eat that or what?”

Aelin frowns at the reminder. “I really shouldn’t,” she says. Rowan sends her a _look_ , and Aelin hurries to explain before he can scold her, “It’s not that—well, not entirely that.”

Rowan doesn’t say anything in response, waiting patiently for her to explain herself. Aelin stabs the cake lamely, taking out her anxiety on the undeserving dessert. She arches a brow at him and says, “You’re cooking is making me fat.”

A laugh escapes Rowan, but it only makes his frown deepen. Aelin isn’t allowed to make him laugh when he’s trying to be supportive and concerned. She watches Rowan’s fingers as they tap out an invisible melody on the tabletop as he contemplates the subtle admission. They’ve agreed to tackle these topics, but Aelin also knows that Rowan would never let such a comment slide even without the deal. Aelin bites her lip and waits.

“I haven’t seen you eat so well in years,” Rowan admits. His fingers keep tapping, the best tell of his nervousness, and he looks apologetic as he says, “Aelin, you needed the weight. You were so… skinny; I’ve never seen you look so _frail_ before. No one with your build or height should be a size zero; it’s just not right.”

Aelin is having trouble meeting his eye. “It was so much easier to stay in shape when I was partying.” And feeding her body questionable substances instead of food, she doesn’t say, but it’s the truth. Rowan and Aelin both know that.

“But between the cake you keep spoiling me with and the antidepressants…” It’s silly how upset Aelin feels at having to admit the next part. “I’ve had to replace a lot of my wardrobe.”

Rowan’s eyes are full of understanding. “Baby,” he says, trailing off. Aelin can tell that he’s struggling with this conversation as much as she is. The taboo subject has a way of making people feel uncomfortable, even the two of them.

“There’s nothing more attractive—nothing sexier—than you being healthy,” Rowan continues. “And that’s not just a matter of personal preference—”

“Though I’m sure it helps that all this cake is going straight to my ass,” Aelin jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Rowan tries his best to look disapproving, but he fails miserably. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Good answer,” Aelin says.

They share a weak smile at that, but Rowan isn’t one to ever let Aelin off the hook easily. He continues, “I know there’s a lot of pressure to look a certain way, baby—to fit in certain clothes and what have you. But.”

Aelin smiles at him, appreciating his attempt to relate. She knows that the guys suffered from their own pressures during the peak Cadre days, but Aelin seems to be the only one to take the matter so seriously.

Rowan squeezes her fingers to bring her attention back to him. He smiles when Aelin meets her eye, a cheeky expression that piques Aelin’s curiosity.

“Fuck them,” he says. “Who gives a shit what they all think?”

Aelin barks a laugh at that. It wasn’t what she was expecting Rowan to say, but she greatly appreciates the attitude. It’s evident that Rowan feels out of his depth for this, but her boyfriend is doing everything he can to help, trying to be insolent when and where she can’t. He’s giving it his best.

For her.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces Guest Appearance on** _ **SNL.**_

A smile spreads across Aelin’s face when Rowan joins her under the covers that evening. He wraps his arms around her waist and tucks his nose into the crook of her neck, and Aelin snuggles in close. She links her fingers with his, sighing in contentment.

“Baby,” Rowan whispers and kisses her neck. “Are you still awake?”

Aelin hums something incomprehensible, and Rowan laughs softly, giving her a squeeze with the arm around her middle. His breath tickles the skin behind her ear and makes her shiver; it doesn’t take Aelin long to turn around in his arms and catch Rowan’s lips with her own.

They kiss. Rowan whispers sweet nothings in between breaths, and Aelin plays with his white blonde hair, scratching her nails softly against his scalp. She reaches for his shirt, and Rowan hisses as the cold air hits his skin. Aelin just giggles and tosses his shirt aside.

“You want to?” Rowan’s breathless voice makes Aelin’s knees weak, even lying down. She nods earnestly, tugging off his pants, and they meet for another kiss.

“Yes, please,” she breathes, and he laughs.

Aelin starts to wiggle out of her stolen shirt, and Rowan catches on, coming to her aid. She’s made something of a habit out of sleeping in Rowan’s stolen clothes, especially these last two months away on tour. The soft cotton smells of her boyfriend and is a million times more appealing than any one of her lacy negligees.

The kissing becomes heated, their touches more purposeful. Rowan’s body hovers over her own, and Aelin allows herself to sink into the mattress, soaking up every ounce of affection her boyfriend has to spare. She’s missed this, their sweet intimacy. Touring without him sucks.

Aelin gasps when Rowan slips between her legs, and they sigh at the feeling of coming together after so long. The skin on skin contact and Rowan’s sweet words are enough to overcome Aelin quickly, and she clings to his shoulders as she breaks, quietly calling out his name.

It doesn’t take Rowan long to follow, eyes clenched shut and hands buried in the sheets to keep from holding her too tightly. Aelin doesn’t really mind the love marks he sometimes leaves, from fingertips and teeth alike, but Rowan is usually pretty careful anyway.

They curl up together in the stillness that follows. Rowan peppers her skin with kisses until Aelin makes him roll over onto his stomach. He complies with a huff, but they both know he enjoys it when she lies on his back, trailing her fingers along his shoulders and down his spine.

Sated and sleepy, Aelin resists the urge to succumb to unconsciousness. She’s not ready to fall asleep; she wants to keep enjoying this little moment with Rowan. He rarely lets her pamper him like this.

Aelin presses a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I love you, Rowan.”

It earns her a brilliant smile flashed over his shoulder; Rowan twists to kiss her lips without making either of them move. “I love you, too,” he says when they part, “so fucking much.”

“Thank you—” Aelin gives him another kiss on the tattoo on his shoulder. “—for sharing so much with me today.” She drags a finger down his spine, and she smiles as Rowan shivers from the little gesture. “I appreciate it.”

“No, thank you,” he counters, folding his arms and laying his head on them. “I know I’m a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Aelin snorts; she can feel his answering glare without Rowan even having to look at her.

“Must you ruin everything?” he asks.

“Uh, kind of.” Aelin laughs at Rowan’s impatient huff. It’s just so easy to tease him and far too much fun to resist. Rowan grumbles under his breath, and Aelin squeaks when Rowan rolls them over, so Aelin beneath him. He grins pleased.

“Thank you for challenging me to be better.” Rowan’s words steal her breath. “It means a lot to me that you care so much—that you care enough to fight with me.”

Aelin refuses to cry. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes,” she jests. She knows that Rowan can see right through the deflection, but he lets her off the hook and kisses her sweetly instead. They’ve unpacked enough for now.

“Mine, too,” he agrees, adjusting them to get comfortable to sleep. Aelin sighs and snuggles close to him. “You know, you’re pretty hot when you’re mad, Ae.”

Aelin’s laughter is bright and surprised at his joke. She punches him half-heartedly, and Rowan hides his own chuckles against her skin. They cuddle beneath the covers, happy and content, until Aelin falls asleep with a smile on her face.

##  **Adarlan Records Remains Quiet on Losing Aelin Galathynius.**


	57. Chapter 57

##  **Aelin Galathynius Performs on** _ **SNL!**_

Speculation about Rowan and Aelin grows in the following days of her vacation. Thea stays home with them and out of the potential spotlight, and the couple postpones their date with much regret. Rowan shrugs off the disappointment, but Aelin sees through his indifference. She texts Essar when he isn’t looking, and the women make some plans.

The week flies by faster than Aelin would like. She sneaks out of the apartment precisely two more times that week, Ress and Brullo hot on her tail. The first time is with Rowan and Thea to see her parents. They have dinner and tease Rowan, and Aelin enlists her father’s help in setting up protection for her little, vulnerable family. She’ll feel better leaving with Rhoe on the case.

The second time Aelin sneaks out of the apartment, it’s to perform.

“Good evening!” The applause begins with fervor, and Aelin struggles not to roll her eyes while a camera is watching. Rhysand Knight smiles at the crowd, that feline smile of his that’s managed to win the hearts of millions despite his troublesome reputation.

Aelin supposes she isn’t one to point fingers. She’s got one hell of a reputation herself, and most of it is true. Gods know how she’ll ever explain it to Thea. If Rowan’s parenting style is any indication, it’ll be with brutal honesty.

Someone screams that Rhys is _so_ handsome. Aelin watches with no small amount of disgust. Gods, is this how it feels to watch her? The actor beams in the direction of the audience member, thanking them.

In this little black box theatre, no one can hide from anyone. Aelin both loves and hates the intimacy; she’s able to see _every_ face in the audience.

Fuck, she really needs to pee. Too late now.

“Here tonight to sing you love songs written about yours truly—” Rhys adjusts the lapels on his jacket, grinning as the audience eats from the palm of his hand. Aelin scoffs; Rhys wishes these songs were about him. “—is _Aelin Galathynius_!”

Aelin waits for the lights to come up on her, allowing the cameras to catch her pointed scowl in her old friend’s direction. She owed Rhys too much ever to disown the annoying bastard, but that wasn’t going to stop Aelin from their weird bicker-banter.

Rhys just wiggles his brows. The audience and camera crew eat it up. This is why they had the two of them on the show at the same time.

She starts to play.

> _I started thinking I should open my mouth and Let the words out, yeah Let the words out, yeah I know they'll happen if I only allow them They'll come as a crowd, yeah Out as a crowd, yeah_

The joke is on Rhysand. This song has nothing to do with romance or love and especially not him. This particular number is just about her.

> Dear happy, don't go Not there but I'm close I just always thought I'd never win Dear happy, you see It's not easy for me But I know that I'm close

##  **Watch Rhysand Knight’s** _ **SNL**_ **Monologue.**

“Alright, Aelin Galathynius,” Rhysand Knight begins, swinging the door to Aelin’s dressing room open with irreverence. He pockets his hands and smiles at the singer, despite the vicious glare she sends his way. “Let’s see if you’re still the life of the party, eh?”

Aelin snarls at the intruder, “Rhys! I could have been _naked_.”

“With the door unlocked?” The actor’s smile is wicked. “You need to be more careful, Aelin! People would pay good money to see you nude.” Aelin flips him off, but Rhys seems unaffected. He adds, “Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, right?”

The man winks. Aelin huffs at him before glancing her boyfriend’s way. Rowan’s face is ashen, surprise leaving his mouth agape. 

Well, that’s going to be fun to explain.

To his credit, Rhysand does look a little apologetic when he notices Rowan in the room. The dark-haired man blanches, and his violet eyes are full of regret when he looks back at Aelin. Rhys clears his throat, a weak attempt to break the tension, and then he crosses the room to shake hands with Rowan.

“Hey!” The actor manages a dazzling smile in the face of danger. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Rowan looks utterly unamused by him. “Rowan,” he corrects. Aelin snorts loudly at him, and Rhys’s face breaks into a broad grin, forever delighted to cause trouble. He truly is almost as bad as her.

Rhys aims that troublesome smile Aelin’s way, unaffected. “So. You in or not? Cassian is currently in the process of claiming us a good table.” He looks thoughtful. “Though, I’m sure you’ve qualified for a table of your own, Ms. _Platinum Record_.”

“Damn right, I did!” Aelin beams at the reminder. She doesn’t miss Rowan’s subtle adjustment to be closer to her, and neither does Rhys based on the sparkle in his bottomless blue eyes. Her smile grows as Rowan’s hand lands on her waist.

She sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately, there’s someone cute waiting at home for us,” Aelin tells her friend. Rowan squeezes her waist at the mention of Thea; they gave Lys and Addy permission to let Thea stay up. Not that any of them believed the three-year-old would still be awake at this hour.

“Maybe next time?” Her voice fills with regret. Aelin does miss the gang.

Rhys doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment, but his wry smile becomes uncharacteristically soft. “Very well, then. But I better be off—before _my_ someone cute drinks my brothers under the table.”

Aelin laughs at that. Rhys is quick to flee the scene without making any more sly comments, abandoning Aelin to explain Rhys’s comments to Rowan on her own. That sneaky bastard.

Rowan’s eyes ask the question for him. _You and Rhysand Knight?_

“It was just once—“ Aelin makes a face, considering. “Kind of.”

“What does that mean? _Kind of?_ ” her boyfriend asks, “Like… As in kind of more than once?”

“No!” Aelin makes a face at the thought. “ _Ew._ ” She chuckles at Rowan’s confused look. Aelin explains, “ _Kind of_ as in that one time was barely one time at all.” She rubs her face. 

Oh, gods, this was so not something she wanted ever to admit aloud.

“It was a very stupid, drunken encounter during the very dark Velaris Chapter of my life.” She laughs uncomfortably. “Not one of my favorite memories.”

Rowan’s eyebrows shoot upward in alarm. Then there’s a spark of something else. Anger.

“No!” Aelin holds out her hands in supplication. One day she’ll learn how to explain all of her drunken mistakes to Rowan without terrifying him. “It was completely consensual. I mean, out of our fucking minds high, but—”

“Aelin,” Rowan pleads, flexing his hands and struggling to remain calm. “Just give me a reason not to chase after that guy and knock out all his perfect fucking teeth.”

“It was the worst sex of my life,” Aelin says quickly. She blushes furiously, embarrassment flooding her. Aelin lays a hand on Rowan’s arm to keep him from charging off after Rhys. Just in case. “Nobody even got off, and Rhys totally cried.”

Rowan deflates at that. His eyes are wide. “ _He cried_?”

“Don’t be a stereotype.” Aelin punches him on the arm, and Rowan glowers. “We were both lonely and sad and pretending to be in a relationship with each other.” Aelin shrugs. “We figured that we might as well enjoy the benefits of our pseudo-relationship, but it... sucked.”

Aelin holds her breath and waits for Rowan’s reaction. Her boyfriend wears a heavy frown in silence, digesting her tale. She searches desperately for something else to say; she’s not ashamed of having done it. Embarrassed? Absolutely. But not ashamed.

Then he laughs, a deep from the belly sort of sound that Aelin thinks she doesn’t hear often enough. Rowan clutches at his stomach and _laughs_. A smile spreads across Aelin’s face, despite wanting to be offended by his amusement. It’s just too hard to be mad at him when Rowan looks like _that_.

“First, you’re telling me that you had _sex_ with _Rhysand Knight_ —”

“Um. Rude,” Aelin interjects. “I’m way out of his league.”

Her boyfriend has the nerve to ignore her, wheezing from laughing so hard. “—and he _cried?_ ” Silver lines Rowan’s eyes; he’s laughed himself to tears over this. “Gods, Aelin. How bad was _it_?”

Aelin crosses her arms, trying to glare at him. “Fuck you.”

“Are you going to make me cry, too?” Rowan asks. Aelin’s mouth drops open in shock, and he breaks into another round of laughter, covering his mouth to hold in the sound. Her boyfriend doesn’t usually outsmart her like that.

“Shit, I’m sorry, baby,” Rowan says when he noticed the look on her face. “That was mean, but—“ He laughs again, reaching for her. “Fuck.”

Aelin steps out of his reach, glaring at him. “Stop _laughing_ at me!”

Rowan tries to obey, sucking in a deep breath of air and holding it in. Mirth shines in those beautiful green eyes of his as he meets her fiery gaze; Aelin could kill him for how the look on his face makes her lips tremble.

“Ugh, fuck you!” Aelin repeats as laughter bubbles from her. Rowan takes that as his cue and bursts into a booming laugh; Aelin punches at his chest to convey just how mad she is at him while laughing. The jerk. 

She growls. “Ugh. Why are you so _mean_ to me!?”

Rowan’s arms wrap around her and pull Aelin into his chest. She presses her pout into Rowan’s shirt, hating how she can feel his laughter rumbling through him. Her boyfriend is such a jerk; she’s never going to share anything with him ever again.

He rubs Aelin’s back until his laughter subsides, and then he cups her face to bring her lips to his, a dirty trick to chase away her pout. Aelin melts into him, but before Rowan can turn the kiss into something greedy, Aelin pinches his ribs. Hard.

“Ow!” Rowan pulls away, surprised.

“That’s for making fun of me! And this—“ Aelin does it again. “—is for going all macho.” Her third attempt is a miss; Rowan dodges, looking outraged by the assault. “You can’t go around threatening to beat up my exes, Buzzard! There’s too many.”

Rowan catches her mean fingers in his hands. “Well, I can try!”

“Some are even bigger than you!” Aelin breaks free of his grasp, flicking his nose instead. Rowan squawks, covering his nose. “Besides! I can take care of myself!”

“I know, I know.” Rowan holds his hands out in surrender, smiling at her. Aelin ceases her attack and waits for what he has to say. “I just— You have a knack for making things sound worse than they were, you know?”

Aelin raises a brow in challenge. “And _you_ have a knack for jumping to conclusions.”

“So. Let’s not do that anymore.” Rowan doesn’t lower his hands. “Deal?”

Essar chooses that moment to enter the dressing room. She smirks at the sight of the couple and sends Aelin a _look_. “Should I come back?”

“Nah.” Aelin holds out her hand to Rowan, and they shake on it. “We’ve come to an agreement.”

“You know,” Essar muses aloud as she leads them away, “those kinds of agreements are usually null and void if it was reached while under duress.”

Rowan barks a laugh, sudden and surprising.

Aelin cracks a grin at her friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The thrum of cameras clicking and people shouting greets them at the stage door. Aelin shoots Rowan a nervous glance, worrying about being photographed together. He senses her watching him and looks up, sparing her an easy smile and threading their fingers together. Rowan reads her so easily. Aelin squeezes his fingers and takes a deep breath.

No more sneaking around, they’d decided.

##  **Rowan Whitethorn and Aelin Galathynius Photographed Leaving** _ **SNL**_ **Together.**

And then, just like that, the vacation is over. 

Aelin squirrels away in Rowan’s music room the evening before her flight. Tomorrow, she’ll be back in rehearsals, and the following night, there’ll be a concert with her name on it. Aelin isn’t complaining. Performing live for her fans is one of her favorite things, but Aelin is a lovesick fool.

She just wants to bring Rowan with her, is all.

> _They know that I love you But I'm still learning to love myself I'm still learning to love myself_

> Aelin stops playing and grumbles at the keys, displeased with the music. She’s been battling this kernel of an idea all day, and Aelin is nearly ready to call it quits. She’s so busy glaring at the electric keyboard as if it’s offended her that she doesn’t notice her boyfriend’s arrival.

“There you are.” Rowan’s voice makes her jump, and he laughs. “Sorry.”

“Gods, Rowan.” Aelin turns her glare on him, but she thinks the effect is ruined by the smile trying to escape. “You could at least warn a girl.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything. Aelin notices the guilty look in his eye, though. “What?”

“I feel kind of guilty,” Rowan admits, sitting down on the couch and nodding at her makeshift writing setup. Aelin can’t adjust to Rowan’s, and so, she’s gone about hijacking his room and making her own.

“You’ve been here all week, and you haven’t been able to go home.” He looks at the keyboard with shame. “Your equipment is much better than mine.”

Aelin rolls her eyes at him. “It’s not better,” she argues. “More expensive? Yes. But better? Nah.” She shoots him a wry smile. “But I do kind of hate the weight of the keys on this thing, though.” Aelin presses down a little too hard on a keyboard key and makes a face. “No offense.”

Rowan laughs. “So picky.”

“Says the man who only buys one specific brand of guitar strings,” Aelin teases, “and don’t even get me started on the guitars themselves.”

“They’re the best!” he defends, crossing his arms and pouting at her. Rowan’s green eyes bear a spark of defense, though. “Besides! Not _everyone_ buys guitars simply for their _color_ , Aelin.”

“Oh, whatever.” Aelin can’t resist tossing her hair. “You _love_ Lucy. Don’t deny it.”

Rowan’s smile goes soft. “Yeah, I do.”

The look on his face is enough to persuade Aelin to abandon the keyboard bench and climb into his lap. Rowan grins at her as she claims her favorite spot, straddling his thighs with her fingers in his hair. Rowan leans back into the couch, trailing his hands up and down her thighs lazily. His touch leaves a fire in its wake.

“Where’s Thea?” she asks, voice low.

Rowan rolls his eyes. “Passed out in her blanket fort with that mutt of yours.”

Aelin flicks his nose. “Be nice to my dog.”

Rowan lets out a breath of air in a huff, and Aelin giggles before kissing him. It’s not soft or sweet or slow like before. No, this time, Aelin kisses her boyfriend like he’s the very air she breathes. It’s something she’s been dying to do all day, but parenthood had other plans for them.

No offense to Thea, but the youngest Whitethorn has a special knack for interrupting the best kisses.

Rowan happily obliges her, curling her hair around his fingers and slipping his tongue into her mouth for a positively indecent kiss. It has them both groaning in seconds. Aelin archers her body into Rowan’s touch when his fingers ghost the swell of her breasts, the touch teasing and light as his hands travel to her hips.

Aelin moans as the palm of his hand cups her ass, and she hates that she can feel Rowan’s faint, pleased smile as they kiss. His smirk fades into a groan when Aelin’s nails scratch his scalp, the sound low and deep in a way that sends Aelin’s heart racing, dying for more. She grinds her hips into his, and Rowan hisses at the friction. Aelin gasps.

Suddenly, it’s no longer about the teasing. Aelin wastes little time relieving Rowan of his shirt and tugging loose the tie of his sweatpants. Rowan is no-fuss, mirroring her actions and undressing Aelin just as quickly. In seconds, they’re skin-to-skin.

“W-wait,” Rowan gasps as Aelin lines their bodies up. The tip of his cock brushes against her folds, and they both gasp for air. Rowan chokes out, “C-condom.”

Aelin’s skin goes cold, immediately realizing the oversight. Of course, Rowan would remember, though he does look remorseful to have stopped her. They stare at one another.

“Uh, um.” Aelin struggles to think through the haze. It’s hard to focus on anything other than what they were seconds from doing. The ache in her belly is overwhelming, and she’s tempted to tell him not to worry about it, to shrug off this conversation and get on with it.

Instead, she lets out a shaky laugh. “Fuck.”

Rowan flashes her a wry smile and tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear with tenderness. “Mad dash to the bedroom?”

“ _Naked_?” Her surprise makes him laugh brightly. Aelin feels just as weird about the suggestion as does the conversation at hand. She slips from his lap to claim his abandoned shirt, feeling too vulnerable.

“You know that this is my house, right?” Rowan chuckles. “We can walk down the hall naked.”

“I’ve never had a less sexy conversation,” Aelin deadpans. Rowan laughs again, and he crowds her body from behind with his, making Aelin shiver with want. She says, “The kid is right _out there.”_

“That _kid_ sleeps like the dead,” Rowan says, but he starts to shrug his pants back on, following Aelin’s lead. “She’d never know.”

“It’s okay with me if we—“ Aelin clears her voice of its hoarseness, turning to face her boyfriend. “Uh, you know.” A nervous laugh; she doesn’t know why this is so weird. “I mean, I’m still on birth control.”

Rowan looks confused at first, but when he catches on, his eyebrows merge with his hairline. Nervous, Aelin continues, “I mean, if you’re okay with it. Obviously.”

“I—” Her boyfriend processes what she said. “Oh!” Aelin can’t help but laugh at him, but Rowan frowns at her, asking, “Are you sure?”

Aelin kisses him sweetly. “Yes, I’m sure. I love you—“ another kiss “—and I trust you.”

A third kiss. Rowan’s smile is breathtaking. “I love you, too.” A pause. “Um.” His laugh is nervous; Aelin finds it adorable. “Okay.”

For a moment, they stare at one another. Aelin is the first to break into giggles; Rowan smiles at her fondly and runs a hand down her arm.

“Did we kill the mood?” she asks, biting her lip to tamper her smile.

The corners of Rowan’s eyes crinkle in amusement. His fingers wrap around her elbows, and he pulls her body close to his, tipping her chin back. Rowan’s thumb swipes across her lips once, and then he gives her a kiss that leaves her breathless.

“Nah.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Spotted At Rowan Whitethorn’s Uptown Apartment.**

“Do you ever get worried?” Aelin asks as they sit together in the music room afterward. “About what Thea is going to think of your music?”

Rowan tilts his head sideways to look at her, eyebrows pinched quizzically. Those clever fingers dance along the fretboard without missing a note. Aelin smiles as she watches him, tucking her cold toes under his thigh.

She leans deeper into the armrest, watching him work. “Like when she’s older—old enough to understand the meaning of all those lyrics she’s singing.”

Rowan looks horrified by the thought. “Well, now I am!”

“Oops.” Aelin smiles apologetically. “My bad.”

He snorts but keeps playing, fiddling around with the guitar a little longer until he finishes the verse he’s playing. Then Rowan stops; he sets the guitar aside and turns to look at Aelin.

“What’s this about?” Rowan asks, missing nothing.

Aelin marks her spot in her journal with a pen and closes it. “Um. I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she sighs, “about how I’ll ever explain all of the shit that’s been said about me—plus, all of the shit that I _did_ do—to my kids one day.” A pointed pause. “To Thea.”

Rowan’s hand drops to her ankle and gives it a squeeze. His smile is both happy and pained as he says, “We’ll tell them the truth.”

“Yeah?” Aelin’s smile is watery. She likes the addition of “we.” Because it’s not just Aelin, and it’s not just Rowan. They’re in this together. “Even when they ask what a threesome is?”

He barks a laugh at that. “I’m going to let you take that one.”

“Cheater,” Aelin says, kicking him lightly.

They smile at each other. Rowan’s fingers trace circles into her ankles; the corners of his mouth turn downwards. “I'm going to miss you, Ace.”

“You could come with me, Buzzard,” she offers. “You and Thea.”

Rowan’s frown deepens. “Believe me when I say that there’s nothing I wouldn’t enjoy more.” A pause. “But… I would be totally aimless. I wouldn’t have anything _to do_ , and Thea’s life is here. Her grandparents would be furious.”

“I know,” Aelin sighs, “but the offer still stands.”

“Thank you, baby.” He leans across her lap to kiss her. “I appreciate it.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn Decline to Comment On Relationship.**


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels kind of... fillery to me? I hope that’s alright with you all. I’ve written so much these last few days that I might have another update for you before next weekend. That’s the plan anyway; I suppose it depends on how my Christmas shopping goes. Enjoy!

##  **Aelin Galathynius Lands at The Port, Returns to Tour!**

Lorcan wastes little time in hunting Aelin down at her hotel. Aelin could hear the drummer coming from the other side of the city with how loudly he marches around the place. She smirks to herself when Lor turns the doorknob without invitation, growling loudly when the door doesn’t open.

However, she underestimates his stubbornness, and Lorcan starts to bang on the door, demanding that she answers. Aelin groans into her pillow; she just wanted to catch some sleep before the rehearsals.

The drummer shouts, “Ace! Open your damn door!”

“Go away!” Aelin throws the blanket over her head to block out the noise. She only just checked into the hotel after a very lonely flight; Aelin is not yet ready for Lorcan Salvaterre’s invasive personality just yet.

“But!” A knock. “I’ve got something to tell you, and in your _exact words_ —” A heavy thud as his fist collides with the door. “—sharing is caring! Open up.”

Aelin mumbles a complaint into her pillow, but she relents, sliding out of bed and heading for the door. She unlocks it, throwing the door open and cutting her drummer a menacing glare. The bastard merely grins at her, leaning against the doorframe with irreverence.

“Salvaterre.” Aelin looks him over. “You’re looking rather… tan.”

Lorcan’s eyes light up. “You’re just upset that we didn’t take you with us.”

“No!” Aelin says quickly. It’s only kind of a lie.

“So,” Lor says, smiling at her defensiveness, “how’s our favorite guitarist doing?”

Aelin smirks. “I’m going to tell El that you called Rowan your favorite guitarist.”

Lorcan goes pale. “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” The sight of the drummer’s fear makes Aelin smile. “So.” She raises a brow at him. “What’s all the fuss about? Why are you banging on my door when I’m trying to sleep?”

“Because,” Lorcan says, his smile turning shy, “I needed to talk to you.”

Aelin is overcome with affection for her friend, and she feels the sudden need to hug him. When she does just that, Lorcan scoffs in annoyance, but they both notice how he hugs her back with abandon. Not that either of them would ever point it out.

He says, resting his head atop Aelin’s, “I asked Ellie to move in with me on the flight back. She said yes.”

“Shut up!” Excitement causes Aelin to punch her friend hard on the arm, and the drummer howls in pain from the blow, clutching his arm and glaring at her. Aelin smiles apologetically. “My bad.”

Lor shoots her a glare that would make anybody else run away in fear. “Can I come inside now?”

Aelin sighs dramatically, but she steps aside to welcome Lor into her hotel suite. The drummer shuffles by and makes himself at home, flopping onto the couch without ceremony. He says, “And don’t think I missed how you skipped over my Rowan Question.”

“Rowan is fine,” Aelin tells him, claiming a spot on an available armchair.

Lorcan hangs his head off the couch, watching Aelin from upside down. “So, you’re saying Bird Brain is doing okay with his dramatic return to celebrity status?”

“Don’t call him that,” Aelin scolds. “You know how much he hates that.”

Lorcan smiles. “Should I call him _Buzzard_ instead?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aelin challenges. Lorcan maintains eye contact with her glare, fearless in the face of death; when she breaks, they both share a smile. Lorcan would absolutely call Rowan Buzzard. He almost has as much fun pissing off Rowan as he does Aelin.

Aelin sighs, giving in. “He’s... cagey. I feel so bad.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Ace.” Lorcan sits upright, sensing the seriousness of the conversation. He can tell that Aelin is upset about the turn of events, but that doesn’t stop Lorcan from flashing her a knowing smile.

“Rowan just doesn’t like to be told what to do,” he says, arching a brow. “Sound familiar?”

“Oh, totally,” Aelin agrees. Lorcan looks surprised by her compliance; it makes Aelin grin. “It sounds a hell of a lot like you, Lor!” The drummer snorts at that, and Aelin sighs. “Actually, it sounds like _all of us_. No wonder Gav was always so exasperated while on tour with us.”

“I believe he calls it _wrangling cats_ ,” Lorcan says dryly. Aelin chokes on a laugh.

“Don’t worry about Rowan, Ae,” Lorcan says, reassuringly. “He’ll be fine, but I would keep that lawyer of yours on speed dial.” He laughs at the thought, and Aelin sends him a questioning look.

“For when he inevitably punches someone,” Lorcan explains with a shrug. “Shit, Ace. You two are going to have some short-tempered children. Poor Squirt. She’s so mellow.”

Aelin throws a pillow at Lorcan, offended for her hypothetical future kids. “My kids will have _nothing_ on you and Elide’s.”

“Damn straight.” The drummer’s face turns soft in a surprising way.

Aelin perks up at that. “Oh? Tell me more.”

Lorcan grins and pats the couch cushion beside him, inviting Aelin to join him for a gossip. She rolls her eyes at his antics, but Aelin switches spots quickly. It would seem they have some catching up to do.

##  **The Moonbeam Twins Join Aelin Galathynius Onstage!**

Dorian Havilliard is wearing a Cheshire Cat smile when Aelin finds him backstage following her curtain call. The singer eyes her friend with distrust, and if the way Chaol looks wearily at the two of them, the Party Prince has something planned.

“ _What_?” she says when she can’t take his silence any longer.

Dorian‘s smile gets impossibly brighter, and Aelin’s heart skips a beat out of fear. Something about that look tells her that Dorian is about to get her into a lot of trouble if she’s not careful. The crowd roars in the background, and Aelin considers running back out on the stage to escape his plans. She could always do an encore. She likes encores.

“I brought you a present.” Dorian holds up an intimidating business folder. Aelin recognizes it as the contract between her and Damaris Records. This time her heart trips over itself in excitement.

Aelin wears a matching grin. “Dor! But it’s not even my birthday!”

Dorian laughs. “Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

He hands her the papers, and Aelin takes them eagerly. “Did you—”

“My people have already sent it over.” Dorian makes a face. “Your lawyer is scary.”

Aelin laughs. “But she’s good.”

“I’m making absolutely no money with this adventure,” Dorian bemoans. “None at all! Are you enjoying bankrupting me, Galathynius?”

“It’s the most fun I’ve had in years,” she tells him. Chaol cracks the barest of smiles at their banter. Aelin meets it with a grin of her own before turning back to Dorian. “Don’t forget, Dorian. We share a common enemy—your father. I’m paying you with his torment.”

“I’d almost forgotten.” Dorian links elbows with Aelin, and she laughs at his antics as he leads her away from the backstage. “My father is going to be _livid_ when we announce that you signed with us.” A pause. “With me. Any idea of when that should be?”

Aelin makes a face at his not so subtle segway. “Legally, I can’t compete with this album until I’ve finished the tour, you know that.” Dorian sighs dramatically, and Aelin laughs at him. “My lawyers say that as long as I finish the tour, we can announce this whenever.”

“Oh?” Dorian’s face lights up in excitement. “Let’s do it now!”

“My lawyer hasn’t greenlit this new version,” she informs him. “I can’t have you swindling me at the last moment, Havilliard.”

Dorian holds a hand up to his heart, looking offended. “ _Havilliard_ is my father, Aelin. I know the family resemblance is horrific, but don’t get us confused.”

Aelin rolls her eyes at him. “My apologies. I’ll do better in the future.”

Fenrys and Connall wait for them to exit to the stadium, parked in a golf cart and wearing matching troublesome grins. Their faces are flushed from the few numbers they played on stage with her; it was a lot of fun to revisit those old Cadre hits, even if it made her miss Rowan.

“Why the long face, Ace?” Connall teases.

Fenrys’s smile is wolffish. “Are you missing a certain guitarist?”

“No,” Aelin says too quickly. The men laugh at her. “I hate all of you.”

“Okay, Superstar,” Dorian chuckles, letting go of Aelin and giving her a light push in the direction of her motorcade. Aelin sends him a warning look, but he just smiles. “Go get glammed up. We’re taking you out on the town tonight.”

“We’re going to go find Lorcan,” Fenrys announces, turning on the golf cart. It feels like a threat, and Aelin prays that the twins don’t wreck it into something important. It’s more worrisome as Dorian hops onto the backseat, flashing her a grin.

As they speed away, Connall chimes in, “Sam, too. It’ll be a party!”

Aelin feels a rush of excitement. It’s been a long time since she got to go out and have some fun with her friends. Mostly, that was due to Rowan’s domestic little life, and if Aelin had her choice between clubbing or having a sing-along with Thea, the choice was obvious.

It’d also served the purpose of keeping her out of bad habits, but these were her friends. Aelin knows that she can count on them to keep an eye out for her.

##  **A Night on the Town! Aelin Galathynius Pictured with Bandmates, Exes Dorian Havilliard and Sam Cortland.**

Aelin nearly cries when the phone rings that morning. She whimpers into the pillow and prays that the infernal device will give her mercy. It’s too loud. It’s too early. Aelin’s head is going to explode.

“Turn it off!” A voice pleads. Another whines, “I think I’m dying.”

Aelin is inclined to agree. She moans and rolls over, burrowing her nose into the covers. Gods, she should never have let Dorian take her out on the town; the media referred to him as the Party Prince for a reason.

“Ace!” Lorcan barks. Aelin cries a little at his loud volume. “Tell your boyfriend to fuck off!”

It occurs to Aelin then that the ringtone is familiar. It’s her phone that is ringing, torturing everyone’s ears. She whines something incomprehensible and pats around for her cellphone. Aelin finds it inside her jacket’s pocket, resting on the floor, and she answers without identifying the caller.

“Go away. I hate you,” she croaks weakly.

Rowan’s warm laughter fills the room. “I guess that answers my question then.” Aelin can’t open her eyes yet, but she can hear his smile. It makes her feel marginally better, just the sound of his voice. “Did you go a little too hard last night, Ace?”

“That sounds so unlike me,” Aelin whines in response, and Rowan laughs again. She grumbles at him; Aelin could fall back asleep if Rowan would just stop making so much noise. Gods, why did her boyfriend choose now to be loud?

“You look terrible.” Rowan catches on. “Shall I let you go, Ae?”

Aelin hums in confirmation, but before Rowan lets her go, a heavy arm flops over her body. Aelin’s eyes jerk open in surprise, staring into Rowan’s equally shocked face on her phone screen. That’s not supposed to happen. The look on Rowan’s face says that he agrees.

“Aelin.” Her boyfriend’s face is neutral. “Is there a guy in your bed?”

“Uh.” Aelin tries to remember what happened last night.

“Oh, relax, Buzzard!” Lorcan’s head pops up over hers in the camera screen. Aelin watches Rowan’s face twist with annoyance, but the thinly veiled concern in his eyes fades away. The drummer looks exceptionally rumpled this morning, even for Lorcan.

“It’s just me,” he says, indifferent. Aelin wonders where the hell Elide ended up; she was with the group last night. Did she return to her hotel room and forget to take her boyfriend?

“You did not just call me Buzzard,” Rowan growls.

Lorcan ignores his friend, unafraid of Rowan. The drummer shrugs, shifting the bed with his significant motion. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve never been _less_ attracted to someone than I am Ace.”

Aelin elbows her friend sharply in the ribs. Lorcan’s air leaves him in a whoosh, and he flops back over to his side of the bed. Aelin spares Rowan a sleepy, apologetic smile.

“Sorry, baby.” Aelin ignores the protests coming from the other room. Fenrys and Connall, she realizes as her memories start to return. Lorcan makes an indignant sound. “But Lor didn’t fit on the couch with the twins.”

Rowan’s smile is bittersweet, and Aelin fails to suppress a yawn. She knows what he’s thinking, and Aelin feels precisely the same. She wishes he were there, hungover and sleeping it off in her hotel room, too.

“Go back to sleep, Aelin,” Rowan says finally. She knows he’s trying to keep her from feeling bad. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Aelin hums in agreement. She props her phone up on the table beside the bed, smiling at Rowan’s face on the screen. He catches on to her plans and shoots her an affectionate smile. Neither of them hangs up.

“Night,” Aelin tells him.

Rowan lets out a soft chuckle. “Night, baby.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Has A Rainy Show at The Barrows!**

Lorcan and Aelin are about an hour into a ghost movie when her phone rings, shrill and unexpected. The burly drummer yelps in surprise, jumping in his seat. His actions nearly overturn the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

“Fuck!” he swears. “Do you ever put that thing on fucking silent?”

“Never.” Aelin snickers at her friend, scrambling for the phone. She knows exactly who is calling her, even at this time of night; the ringtone gives him away. It’s Rowan.

Aelin smiles as Rowan’s face comes into focus. He beams at her, happy to have caught her. Aelin seriously underestimated how difficult it was to manage a relationship long-distance; she’d gone from spending every free moment with Rowan to missing his calls and leaving voicemails of her own. The ringer stayed on.

“Why are you still awake, Old Man?” Aelin asks her boyfriend.

Rowan wears his signature Whitethorn Frown. ““Two years, Aelin. We’re _two_ years apart.”

“That shit matters,” Lorcan defends on auto-pilot.

Aelin bursts into laughter and Rowan frowns at the both of them. He was probably hoping for some support from their friend and bandmate. Lorcan is older than both of them, but this is not the first time he's heard this conversation.

Rowan releases a heavy sigh. “How was the show?” he asks, apparently deciding to let the argument pass; they all know that Aelin could fight him on it forever. “Did it rain? I know you were afraid of that.”

“It _fucking_ poured, man!” Lorcan whines. Aelin nods solemnly.

Rowan rolls his eyes. “Trying to talk to my girlfriend, _man_.”

The drummer holds his hands up in surrender, and Aelin tilts the camera to allow Rowan to see the gesture. A shrill violin fills the hotel room, and Lorcan shrieks once more. Popcorn goes flying everywhere, and the couple shares a smile.

“He's going to keep you up all night now, Ae. You know that, right?” Rowan’s voice is a mix of a light scolding and amusement. “You know you can’t let Lorcan watch scary movies before bedtime.”

“Or feed him after midnight,” Aelin jests. Rowan cracks one of those rare, beautiful smiles of his, and Aelin’s heart forgets how to work for a minute. “Well, I am sorry to report that I have failed on both of those counts.”

Rowan laughs as she picks a rogue piece of popcorn from her hair. Aelin makes a grave face. “This might be the last you ever hear from me.”

Rowan doesn’t miss a beat. “I will miss you when you’re gone,” he says morosely. “It was great while it lasted.”

Lorcan makes a noise to communicate just what he thinks of the couple. “I’m going to call my own girlfriend,” he mutters, shifting around on the couch to find his cell and dial Elide. All three of them listen as the call rings.

Aelin rolls her eyes at the camera, and Rowan smiles fondly at her.

“What do you want?” Elide barks. Aelin laughs, loud and sudden.

Lorcan looks put out. “Rowan and Aelin are being—” He gestures with his arms. “— _them_.”

“Them?” Aelin can imagine Elide’s eyebrow arch, sharper than any knife.

“Yeah. Gross.” A pause. “So I called you to be gross with me—to out-gross them.”

Rowan snorts. “We’re not gross.”

“Yeah!” Aelin agrees. “We’re fucking adorable.”

“You’re pretty gross,” Elide says, her voice echoing in the room. Aelin scoffs, and Rowan frowns some more, looking offended by the accusation. “But I have no intention of stooping to their level.”

“ _Babe,_ ” Lorcan whines pathetically.

Elide sighs. “Goodnight. Do _not_ wake me up when you come creeping in tonight. I will not protect you from the ghosts, you idiot.” A pointed pause. “Because they don’t exist.”

The line goes dead. Aelin snickers at Lorcan, saying, “I sure hope she’s nicer to you in private, Lor.”

He sighs dramatically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grins, “that _was_ nice for Elide.”

“Fuck.” Rowan looks surprised, making eye contact with Aelin. “I never thought I’d see the day when Lorcan Slavaterre got whipped.”

Aelin giggles. “I know. It’s weird, right?”

“So weird,” he agrees.

Lorcan huffs at them, pressing play and resuming the movie. The ghost’s face flashes across the screen, and Aelin cackles at the sight of Lorcan springing from the couch in surprise. He scowls at her, pauses the show, and leaves the room, muttering something about needing more popcorn to deal with being misunderstood.

Rowan is watching Aelin with soft eyes when she glances back at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, looking at her in a way that makes her blush. “I’m just happy to see you so _happy_.”

##  **The** _ **Dear Society Tour**_ **Heads for Narrow’s Landing.**


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content ahead.

##  **_Dear Society_** **tour Coming to a Screen Near You!**

Aelin calls Rowan as she nears her destination. It's been nearly a month since she saw him last, and she misses the sound of his voice. Even after spending the whole week with Rowan, her last vacation home in Doranelle was just too short for her liking. Aelin was ready to be back.

“Hey.” Rowan sounds delighted to catch her call.

The happiness in his voice makes Aelin smile. “Hey yourself.”

“I was just thinking about you.” Rowan laughs a little. “Were your ears burning?”

“Oh?” Aelin can’t resist playing coy. He makes it too easy. “I hope it was something naughty.”

His answering chuckle makes Aelin shiver in her seat, and she’s thankful for the divider between her and the driver. Nothing is more awkward than talking dirty to your boyfriend while in earshot of other people. Not that Aelin minds too much; she’s always been incredibly outspoken. But she tries not to make her employees uncomfortable—or to allow anyone that might talk to overhear.

“Oh, I miss you, baby.” His voice is soft and quiet. It makes her knees weak, and Aelin nearly trips over the threshold of the door she’s crossing. Ress swoops to the rescue, catching her by an elbow and righting her.

“I miss you, too.” Aelin spares her security with a thankful smile. They’re always saving her ass. “How are things?”

“Fine,” he says too quickly. Brullo holds the elevator for her, and Aelin steps inside. From there, she’s in the clear. “Same old, same old.”

Aelin frowns at the receiver. She can tell by Rowan’s tone that he’s lying, downplaying things; she just can’t figure out why. Aelin makes a note to bother him about it later. She misses him, and for now, and she just wants to catch up with him.

“How about you?” Rowan turns the focus back on her in that way of his. She can hear him cooking in the background, and her stomach growls at the thought of his cooking. Gods, Aelin misses his cooking, too. “How was your day?”

“Oh, the usual.” Aelin shrugs even though Rowan can’t see her. “Packed. Took a flight. I’m _starving._ ”

Rowan laughs at her tone. “Wait, I didn’t know you were flying to the next stadium.” Aelin’s heart skips a beat. “I didn’t think it was that far of a trip.”

“It’s more secure,” she says nonchalantly. Rowan hums, trusting her easily. Her boyfriend likes anything that’s safer for her. The worrywart. “So, did you do anything fun for your birthday, Grandpa?”

Rowan lets out an irritated breath, but he doesn’t fight Aelin on the newest nickname. He says, “Not really. Thea and I went to the park, and she bought me ice cream.”

“Thea has her own money?” Aelin asks curiously.

“I gave her ten bucks, and she gave it to the clerk,” Rowan explains, and Aelin smiles. “It was fascinating stuff for a three-year-old. She put the change in her piggy bank when we got home.”

“So you bought your own lunch?” Aelin is filled with guilt for missing the day. “On your birthday?”

“I was going to get drinks with Fen and Con.” A pause. “But they canceled.”

“ _Baby_ ,” she sighs, nearing the end of the hallway. Aelin can hear the disappointment in his voice; she just needs to hug him. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s okay, Aelin,” Rowan insists. He’s been way too good of a sport about this. Aelin couldn’t promise that she would be so calm about Rowan missing _her_ birthday. “We’ll celebrate when you get into town.”

Aelin hears the knock on the other end of the line and waits. Rowan is silent for a long moment. Another knock, and he grumbles, “If those assholes canceled on me just to show up at my apartment—“

“You should answer,” Aelin giggles. “Give them a piece of your mind.”

“Maybe I will,” he huffs. “Hang on a second.”

Aelin waits and listens. Rowan complains the entire trip to the front door, and each knock only seems to make her boyfriend more irritable. She has to bite her lip to keep from giggling at him.

Because Aelin was a horrible liar, and Rowan was too trusting for his own good. Everything worked out perfectly.

The woman vibrates with excitement as she waits for her boyfriend to answer the door. When he does, Aelin’s heart sings at the sight of Rowan’s grouchy exterior. It’s been far too long since she last saw that frown in person, but not for lack of trying. Their schedules just hadn’t matched, no matter what they did.

But it was Rowan’s _birthday_. Aelin took matters into her own hands.

Rowan’s eyes are wide but happy as he looks her over. He looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he smiles, ducking his head and hiding his incredulous laugh. Aelin bites back her own grin, waiting for her invitation to come inside.

Silently, Rowan holds the door open for her, and Aelin steps inside the apartment. Neither breaks eye contact, not even as Rowan leans around her to close the door. Aelin arches into his frame instinctively, craving his warmth and his touch. It’s been far too long since Aelin last got to touch him.

Rowan seems to agree, chuckling warmly as Aelin steps into him. She wraps her arms around his middle, threading her fingers behind him. Aelin presses her face into his shoulder, smiling as Rowan’s strong arms drape around her and squeeze her tightly. She sighs; everything's better with this guy around.

Aelin pulls back eventually, smiling up at him. Rowan cups her face gently, leaning down to press a warm kiss to her lips in greeting. Though Aelin smiles too hard to make the kiss into something very good, but Rowan doesn’t seem to mind. He laughs against her lips, gives up and kisses her on the nose.

“What are you doing here?” he asks at last when they give up on kissing each other’s smiles.

Aelin plays with his hair. “I missed you, and when Essar told me I had a whole 72 hours free from obligation… I jumped at the chance to see you.” She kisses him again. “You really think I’d miss your birthday?”

“Baby,” he hums, pressing another, heavier kiss to her mouth. Aelin moans into the kiss, parting her lips slightly and inviting Rowan to kiss her better. She grips his hair tightly as Rowan’s tongue tastes hers.

His attention melts Aelin’s very bones; Rowan squeezes her waist a little tighter to keep her upright. They part, and he says again, “My baby.”

The tone in his voice makes Aelin shiver. Rowan takes a step forward and presses Aelin lightly into the door; she clutches his shoulders and kisses him back enthusiastically. It’s nice to get to do this without being interrupted. Thea’s usually bounding down the hallway by now.

“Wait,” she pants, breaking free. Rowan pouts, but he focuses on her neck next, making Aelin feel dizzy. She tugs his face back to hers to get him to pay attention and frowns. She knows that she’s killing the mood when she asks, “Where’s Thea?”

It’s odd for the little girl to be absent from their reunions. Aelin wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she was missing the toddler’s loud welcome home.

Rowan bites his lip, smiling at her. “Grandparents. I thought I was going out with the guys, so…”

“Oh,” Aelin says, feeling disappointed, but she perks up at the realization. “Oh! _Yes._ ”

Rowan’s hands are on her in a second. He crowds her up against the front door, kissing her with abandon; Aelin laughs at his eagerness, but she hops upward and wraps her legs around his waist. Rowan catches her by the hips, gripping her roughly, and Aelin moans into his mouth at the feeling of his rough palms scraping her skin. She donned a dress this morning, wanting to look nice for him; it was a great decision.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” Rowan murmurs into the skin of her throat, kissing and biting his way up and down the sensitive skin there. Aelin’s head thumps back against the wood of the door, and she allows her eyes to fall closed, drinking in the feeling of his mouth on her. She’s missed that mouth, missed this man in front of her, claiming her mouth for another kiss.

Aelin giggles into his mouth as they kiss. “I missed you, too, Birthday Boy.”

Rowan huffs a little, but he’s a man on a mission, and Aelin has zero plans to get in his way. Kid-free time was even rarer than Rowan and Aelin time these days. With Aelin still on tour, her visits were usually with both of the Whitethorns. There wasn’t enough time to have one-on-one time with either of them.

“Fuck! You look so good.” Rowan swears under his breath. His hands are heavy on her ribs. “Did you get dressed up for me?”

“You should see what I have packed in my suitcase, Birthday Boy,” she pants. Rowan’s eyes light up at that; he pulls her in for another messy kiss. Aelin moans into his kiss.

“Oh,” she gasps, tugging at his hair while he sucks her pulse point. “Rowan, _oh shit_. I need you now. Baby, please.”

Rowan reclaims her lips and lifts her from the door. He only carries her as far as the entry table, setting her down on it and hiking up her skirt. Aelin’s heart races, her fingers getting to work on his pants. She yanks his jeans and briefs down in one go. She wasn’t lying; Aelin is desperate for him.

He laughs at her eagerness, but the sound chokes off when Aelin frees him, stroking him with intent and kissing his neck. Rowan swears as her teeth tug at the thin skin of his neck. His hips thrust into her fingers, enjoying the attention.

Aelin gasps when Rowan palms her core. His lips find hers, and the couple kisses messily. Things move quickly; Rowan doesn’t bother with her underwear, sliding them to the side and nudging himself between her legs.

Sex without a condom is pretty great, but Aelin can’t imagine ever taking the risk with someone that wasn’t Rowan. She meant what she said to him; Aelin trusted Rowan.

Aelin gasps sharply at the feeling of him at her entrance. In the past, they’ve always taken more time with the foreplay. Rowan gets a kick out of playing her body like an instrument. They’ve never just _fucked_ like this before. Even that day in the music room turned tender.

So, it’s unsurprising that Rowan hesitates, meeting her gaze and checking in. Aelin digs a heel into his ass, urging him on, and Rowan chokes on a laugh, torn between amusement and the groan that escapes him as he slides between her folds.

“Rowan,” Aelin begs shamelessly. “Please, baby.”

His eyes darken, and he sinks inside of her. Aelin’s eyes flutter closed, and her mouth falls open in a silent moan. Rowan swears in a low voice at the tight fit of his body in hers, and Aelin’s body squeezes him in response.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling out and entering her a second time. “You feel so good, baby.”

Aelin loves the feeling, but she wants more. She locks her legs around him to keep him in place, and Aelin digs her nails into the skin at the back of his neck, and Rowan groans, beginning to thrust into her body at long last.

Moans tumble out of both of their throats. Aelin keens, loving the feeling of him inside her, the push and pull of his cock, and Rowan kisses her messily. Aelin’s hips begin to rock against his, desperate for friction. The band photo falls from his place on the table, clattering to the floor, and Aelin laughs breathlessly. Oops.

“Good girl,” Rowan tells hers, making her whimper. Aelin braces one hand on the edge of the table and another against the wall as Rowan starts to fuck her a little more urgently. “You take me so well.”

“ _Rowan_ ,” she moans, feeling the tension building inside of her body. A coil about to snap. “Oh, baby. I’m almost—I’m going to—”

It snaps, and Aelin cries out loudly. Her hips lose their rhythm, and Rowan grunts, thrusting deeper into her body. It’s clear he’s not ready to stop yet. She clings to his shoulders, trying to keep him as close as possible.

“Baby,” he moans, sinking his teeth into her shoulder and making Aelin cry out.

Rowan’s hips change angles, hitting a new spot within her that makes Aelin see stars. She whimpers nonsense, and Rowan growls, pressing a kiss to her temple. He asks, “Does that feel good?” A pause as he considers. “Do we need to stop?”

“So good,” Aelin pants, the pressure building from deep within her again. “And don’t stop. Please, keep fucking me.”

Rowan groans at the begging. Aelin has learned he gets off on her requests as much as she does the praise. Their bodies slam together, and Aelin yanks his face down to hers for another searing kiss. She scrapes her nails down his body, wherever she can reach, and Rowan’s hips start to stutter.

Aelin is so _close_. She needs just a little longer, and she says as much, pleads for him to hang on.

“Yes,” she moans, squeezing her legs around him. Rowan groans, digging his fingers into her hips hard enough to bruise. “That’s it, _baby_. Yes— _oh!_ ”

Rowan gasps for air, pressing his forehead into the crook of her neck. He wants to get her there again, always takes an arrogant sort of pride in making her come as many times as possible, but Aelin knows that’s not always realistic.

“Uh,” he groans. “Aelin, I’m—”

Aelin holds him as Rowan comes inside of her. She moans at the burst of warmth, and Rowan groans loudly, thrusting erratically. His teeth scrape at her neck, and his hands squeeze her hips. It’s all just enough to get her there one more time.

They come down together slowly. Aelin murmurs his name, and Rowan stays close, pressing gentle kisses to her throat. She wonders what the skin there looks like now that he’s through. Rowan did not hold back in the slightest just now, and it was hot as hell.

Rowan pulls away. His laugh is a little nervous as he sets them straight, and Aelin smiles widely at him. “So…” He ducks his head in that shy way of his. “That happened.”

Aelin laughs. “It did. Happy birthday, baby.”

She presses her lips to his for another kiss, and Rowan cups her face gently and kisses her sweet. It’s such a contrast to the moment they shared minutes ago.

“Was that okay?” he asks. “For you?”

“Rowan,” she scolds him lightly, “how many times do I have to give you permission to fuck me senseless?”

Her words make him choke. Aelin laughs and gives Rowan a consoling kiss. “That was great—really great.” Aelin channels that bravado of hers. “You should totally feel free to jump me like that whenever you want. It’s super hot.”

That pleases Rowan. He laughs deeply, ducking his head, and ruffling his hair. The boyish mannerisms make Aelin feel warm; she’s hit with the need to kiss him again, so she does. Rowan looks confused by the sudden kiss but returns it happily.

There will come a day when Aelin and Rowan don’t have these awkward, silly moments with one another. One day they’ll run out of discoveries and first times; they’ll become that couple that knows each other inside and out. Aelin won’t lie; she’s looking forward to that day. She’ll welcome it happily. But for now, Aelin plans to savor these little moments, too.

##  **The Internet Gathers to Wish Rowan Whitethorn a Happy Birthday.**

They waste the following morning away in bed together, curled around each other, skin-to-skin. Rowan greedily holds Aelin hostage in his bed with an arm locked around her waist and his nose tucked into the crook of her neck. She plays with his hair and relishes the moment, soaking up the quiet, comfortable moment.

The couple doesn't get a lot of time like this. Time alone, time to waste.

So, it’s not a surprise that Rowan protests endlessly when Aelin announces her plans to ruin it. It _is_ his birthday, after all, and Aelin does owe him a date.

“Do we have to?” Rowan whines. He makes a show of being put out by the idea of getting dressed, dipping his chin low and pouting at her. Someone doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday with their friends. “Let’s cancel and stay naked.”

Aelin rolls her eyes at the crybaby. “I mean,” she starts to say around a devilish smile, “We could always do both—go for drinks _and_ stay naked.” He scowls, and Aelin’s smile grows. “That’ll cause quite the stir.”

“Gods.” Rowan flops backward onto the bed, reminding Aelin that she isn’t the only dramatic one in the family. “You really are a terror, you know that?”

Still, her boyfriend releases her at last, and Aelin makes a dash for the bathroom as naked as the day she was born. A thought comes to mind, and she turns to Rowan to share it. Aelin finds Rowan staring her way, openly admiring her backside, and she forgets what she was going to say. When he realizes he’s been cough, Rowan grins, unashamed to be caught staring. Aelin sends him a wink and disappears.

Aelin spends the remainder of the afternoon primping for their evening with the guys. Rowan makes several appearances—once to shower, a handful of times to complain, and twice to lure Aelin back into bed. Much to his dismay, Aelin refuses to fall for his tricks. It’s been too long since Rowan had any fun that didn’t involve his daughter. He needs some grown-up time with adults that aren’t just Aelin.

“Ace!” The man in question shouts, growing more and more impatient the closer it gets to being time to leave.

The nickname is his gentle way of telling Aelin that he’s frustrated with her, tired of waiting for her to be ready to leave. His words earlier were, _If we have to go, let’s just get it over with_. It nearly made Aelin reconsider the whole thing until she reminded herself that Rowan was grouchy about everything. He’d change his mind once he got there.

“We don’t have a lot of time until—”

“I know, I know.” Aelin rushes into the living room, tugging on her boots at the same time. She smiles guiltily. “I’m ready now, I promise.”

Aelin looks up and into Rowan’s surprised gaze. She waits for him to say something—anything—to explain his expression, but her boyfriend remains quiet.

“What’s the matter?” His gaze drops to her short skirt, and Aelin panics. “It’s too short,” she concludes, waving her arms in distress. “ _I knew it_! Manon. Ugh. Just two more minutes, I promise! I just have to change, and then we can leave.”

“What?” Rowan rises to his feet quickly. “No!”

Aelin pauses in her retreat, eyeing him skeptically. The look on her face must speak for itself; Rowan reaches out for her, then reconsiders. He says, “Aelin, you look… fuck. You look fantastic.”

Aelin smiles shyly. “Really?”

“Yes,” he whispers. Rowan’s eyes drop to her lips and then to the daring neckline of her dress. “Don’t change.” A quirk of his lips. “It _is_ my birthday weekend.”

Aelin smiles slyly. “Got a thing for short skirts, Buzzard?”

“No,” he says too quickly. Then he smiles guiltily. “Well, yeah. Kind of.” Rowan’s hands slip underneath the leather jacket she’s wearing, and he grabs her waist in a way that makes her breath quicken. Aelin likes the look in his eye. She’ll have to wear shorter skirts more often.

“I love a girl in a sundress,” he admits, his voice a little shy. “It makes me want to spread you out and have my way with you.” Rowan smiles, uncertain. “Is that a weird one?” he asks about the kink he’s just revealed.

Aelin’s heart races. Her voice is low when she says, “No. Not at all.”

She moves without thinking, crashing her lips into his. Rowan startles at her sudden movement, but he quickly leans into the kiss, groaning and squeezing her waist with just the right amount of pressure. Aelin keens, scrabbling at his clothes.

“Someone’s greedy,” Rowan teases, breaking away from the kiss and smiling at her.

Aelin puts an end to that with a simple command, “Fuck me.”

Their control snaps. Rowan releases a breath that sounds like a growl and slides his hands down her body to cup her ass and pull her close. Aelin arches into it, stumbling backward as Rowan walks her through the living space. She gasps when the backs of her thighs hit the table.

Aelin moves to hop on top of it, but Rowan stops her, spinning her around and bending her over. Aelin braces herself against the table; her pulse roars in her ears. “Oh shit.”

Rowan hikes up her dress for the second time in as many days, giving her ass a squeeze and then a slap. Aelin is definitely going to start wearing more of them if it makes Rowan act like _this._

“Baby,” he says, curiosity in his voice, “what are you wearing?”

Aelin remembers then why it took so long for her to get ready. It was harder than she anticipated to get into the little lace bodysuit she packed. For some reason, the memory makes her release a bright laugh. “It’s your birthday present.”

Rowan swears, and his hands drag upward, searching for the waist of the underwear. “How do I get it off?”

She turns around, giggling. “It’s an all or nothing sort of situation.”

Rowan seems to be contemplating the offer. He’s spent most of the day trying to make Aelin forget about hanging out with the band, wanting her to curl up in bed with him for other activities. Activities like the one they were _just_ about to get into.

A knock at the door ruins Rowan’s plans. Aelin grins, and Rowan frowns deeply. They both know who is waiting for them on the other side of the door. Ress and Brullo have arrived just in the nick of time, ready to escort them to the bar.

Aelin presses a kiss to Rowan’s lips. It’s a promise and an apology. “Guess you’ll have to wait for your present until later.”

##  **Fenrys Moonbeam Shares Bar Photo with Aelin Galathynius.**

The band is waiting for them when they arrive, tucked away in the back of the bar, away from prying eyes. Rowan seems surprised by the venue, and Aelin can’t resist giving him a nudge with her elbow. He definitely thought Aelin was taking him clubbing for his birthday. It’s like Rowan thinks she doesn’t know him at all.

“Took you assholes long enough!” Lorcan exclaims, leaning heavily on his cue stick. “I thought we were getting stood up.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Rowan grumbles, and Aelin swats him on the arm.

“Aw, c’mon, Lor. You know I never miss a party.” Aelin grins at her friends, watching as Connall sinks the solid orange 5 ball. Lorcan’s brow pinches together as the keyboardist moves on to the next one. There are very few things the drummer hates more than losing.

“We all know they were doing the dirty,” Fenrys tells the room. He pokes his stick into his brother’s rear end just before Connall takes his next shot. The brunette yelps and misses, spinning on his brother and glaring. His eyes promise murder. “ _Dude_!”

Lorcan cheers at the; he’s always happy to accept Fenrys’s cheating if it benefits him. Aelin finds a stool, takes a seat, and prepares to watch Connall get his ass kicked. Lorcan has always been better than anyone else at pool; it’s so annoying. Aelin hates it.

Rowan’s hand runs down Aelin’s back to get her attention. She smiles up at him, and he asks, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure,” Aelin says, leaning into the kiss Rowan gives her temple. He disappears for the bar without asking for her order; Rowan knows her well enough. Aelin doesn’t feel too bad about letting the guest of honor fetch the drinks. The night is already on Aelin’s tab; Rowan couldn’t pay if he wanted to.

Fenrys cheers loudly when Lorcan clears the rest of his shots, and Connall lets loose a string of expletives that would definitely get them all in a lot of trouble on live television. Rowan appears then, drinks in hand and with some company.

“Look at what the cat dragged in,” he says, nodding over his shoulder.

Gavriel follows Vaughan into the back room, much to the band’s excitement. Chaos ensues following the reveal of their surprise guests, and Aelin smiles, watching everyone from her perch on the stool. It doesn’t take Rowan very long to seek her out.

He snakes an arm around her, warm and comforting. “Did you do all of this?”

“I can accept responsibility for the idea but not the planning,” Aelin tells him honestly.

“Essar,” he says. It isn’t a question.

“We both know that I’d lose my head if it weren’t attached.” Aelin grins at how her words make Rowan laugh. “I couldn’t have planned this better if I tried,” she says. “I heckled them into freeing up some time, and Essar bought the tickets.”

Rowan leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Okay, okay!” Connall gestures dangerously with the stick in his hands, bringing the room to attention. “Who’s going to put this asshole in his place?”

The room falls quiet, and everyone looks at one another. Rowan’s arm falls away from Aelin, much to her disappointment, and he takes the cue stick away from Con.

“Everybody knows that there’s only one person that stands a chance against, Salvaterre,” he says gravely. Lorcan raises an unimpressed brow; someone isn’t afraid of Rowan.

The rest of the room grins as Rowan hands the cue to Aelin. He smiles at her. “So? What do you say, Ace?”

Aelin throws back the drink in her hand, and the room erupts into cheers. She wiggles the empty glass at her boyfriend and tells him, “I’m going to need a few more of these if I’m to stand a chance.” Rowan snorts at her, but he trades her empty glass for his neglected one. “We all know I play best while inebriated.”

Lorcan scoffs. “This will be easy.”

“Shut your mouth, Lor.” Aelin aims the stick at him, threateningly. “I’m going to kick your ass!”

“Gods,” Gavriel says dryly, “Rowan, you’ve _armed_ her.”

The man in question beams, proud of Aelin regardless. “Like she needs a weapon to be dangerous.”

“This almost feels like old times,” Vaughan observes, touching the rim of his glass to his lips. He grins. “Except for the fact that we’re all much better dressed.”

Aelin grins at him. He’s right; it does feel like old times—but better.

##  **_Happy Birthday, Buzzard. Aelin_** **Galathynius Shares Rare Photo of Rowan Whitethorn.**


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always have a little bit of a meltdown (in a good way) when we reach another “milestone” chapter. SIXTY chapters later... We’re at about 225k —and that’s without all of the extras. I suppose one good thing came out of the year 2020. I’ve never written this much in my life.
> 
> Thank all of you lovely people for reading and commenting. I live for all the outrage and joy—and theories. Those are my favorite.

##  **The Cadre Band Members Share Photos of Rowan Whitethorn’s Birthday.**

Only the gods know how the group manages to stay under the radar. Aelin guesses it helps that she’s perfected the art of sneaking in and out of Rowan’s apartment. For someone who’s made a career out of being seen, Aelin works very hard to go unnoticed.

Rowan trips over the threshold as they leave. “Fuck.”

“C’mon.” Aelin giggles and reaches for the hand of her drunk boyfriend, and they thread their fingers together. Rowan flashes her a drunk, happy grin. “Let’s make a run for it.”

“Running sounds hard.” His words slur together as he speaks, and Rowan frowns deeply.

To further his point, Rowan leans heavily into Aelin’s side as they walk. She gladly takes his weight, and they take shaky, uncertain steps away from the building. Guess they’re not running anywhere.

Good thing that Aelin’s had years of practice to perfect functioning while inebriated.

The night is far from young as they stumble down the sidewalk, looking for their car. Aelin isn’t exactly sober, but she’s nowhere near the drunk level that her boyfriend is. She worked hard to get Rowan to loosen up for the evening and accept that he was free from responsibility on his birthday.

“Babe, if we can make it to the car, we’re home free,” Aelin says through her laughter. She just can’t seem to stop giggling. “Where did they park?”

Rowan’s frown creates deep lines on his forehead; it’s clear that he has no idea where the car is, either. Well, shit.

Brullo appears at Aelin’s side with a gentle hand to her elbow to get her attention. “This way, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Brullo!” she cheers. “I didn’t know you were here!”

Ress’s smiling face comes into focus. “How was the whiskey, Ace?”

“Mhm,” Rowan grunts. “Good.”

Aelin giggles. “We’re drunk. But it’s okay! Thea is with her grandparents.”

“How responsible of you,” Brullo muses. The faintest of smiles threatens his lips.

The security detail leads the inebriated couple to the dark SUV waiting by the curb. Aelin doesn’t know how she and Rowan missed the car, but she’s grateful for its nearness as Ress holds the door open for her. Aelin attempts to aid her boyfriend into his seat, but Rowan stumbles, graceless after so much whiskey.

“Gods, Ro.” Aelin holds him by the hips.

Rowan leans heavily against the side of the vehicle, surprised by the turn of events. His eyes are nearly as wide as Thea’s, and Rowan blinks down at her. He whispers conspiratorially, “I almost fell on my ass.”

She laughs at him. “I swear. You have two left feet!”

“I can’t dance,” he agrees morosely. “This is true.”

Aelin throws her head back and laughs. Even tipsy, there’s very little Aelin finds as amusing as a drunk Rowan; he’s simultaneously so silly and so grave. When she meets his eye, Rowan looks down at her with a goofy smile, inexplicably pleased to be found funny. Aelin stands on her tiptoes to give him a kiss, and Rowan’s hands fall to her hips, holding her close.

“I love you,” Aelin tells him when they part.

His smile grows. “I love you more.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn Return from a Night on the Town.**

The trip back to the apartment is uneventful, and the group enters through the side door to avoid the paparazzi awaiting them out front the building. Even tipsy, Aelin feels a rush of guilt about it. They must have figured out Aelin was in town, somehow, and now they’ve come to snap a few pictures. That’s what they got for sharing photos on social media. They’re all so much smarter than she gives them credit for.

At the door to Rowan’s apartment, Aelin waves a comical goodbye to her security detail. Ress looks wary about leaving the pair on their own, but Brullo sighs dramatically, rolls his eyes, and closes the door. He’s almost grumpier than Rowan.

The lock turns behind them, keeping the couple safe from intruders.

Rowan has already disappeared when Aelin turns back around, having wandered off while her back was turned. Before she can start to look for him, a crash in the kitchen gives away the drunken man’s location. She follows the sound, and Aelin finds Rowan on the floor, struggling with cookware.

“What are you doing?” she asks, struggling not to laugh at him.

“I want a grilled cheese.” Rowan frowns. “But now I think I’m stuck down here.”

Aelin smiles at him. “Can I help you?”

“No,” her boyfriend’s voice is grave, “I think I’m beyond that.”

“Okay, Drama Queen,” Aelin teases.

Despite Rowan’s lack of faith, Aelin holds out her hand to him, smiling at her boyfriend like he’s the best thing she’s ever seen. Drunk Rowan pretty much is. His green eyes contemplate her offer warily, likely doubting the success.

Aelin urges him along with an eye roll. “Any day now, Buzzard.”

Rowan releases a heavy sigh and takes her hands in his. Aelin prepares herself to pull him to his feet, but Rowan hesitates. It’s the mischievous glint in those green eyes that warns Aelin of her boyfriend’s plans just before he yanks her down into his lap instead.

Aelin yelps his name as she crashes into his lap. “Rowan!”

His laugh is rich and happy. It’s a wonder that neither of them gets hurt because of his machinations. Aelin fixes him with a stern glare, fear having chased away her tipsy lightheartedness. Rowan seems unconcerned, and he flashes her a bright smile, kissing away her frown with a loud peck of the lips.

“Can I have my birthday present now?” Rowan’s voice is childlike. He tugs at the neckline of her dress with one finger to reveal the lace hidden underneath, but Aelin swats him away, laughing at him.

“You. Are. Ridiculous.” Aelin arches a brow at him in a challenge. “Besides. You’re nowhere near sober enough to even enjoy your present properly.”

Rowan weighs her words heavily. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh, pouting adorably. His eyes light up with a smile full of promise. “But I can _look_.”

Aelin laughs at him, and he frowns, taking offense. “ _I can_.”

“I love you,” Aelin gasps. “You silly Buzzard.”

Rowan’s smile is silly. “I love you, too, Ace.”

Aelin loses track of how long they stare at each other with goofy smiles. When she gets out of his lap, Rowan protests adamantly and demands “a peek.” It makes Aelin break into laughter all over again; she can’t wait to make fun of him for this once he’s sober.

“Sit,” Aelin orders, ushering Rowan into a seat at the kitchen island. “I’ll man the grill.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her drunk boyfriend furrows his brow in concern. “You can’t cook _sober_.”

Aelin opens her mouth to protest but considers his words and stops. “You’re not wrong.” She smiles. “But I do know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.”

Despite looking utterly unconvinced, Rowan waits patiently as Aelin digs out the required ingredients and picks out the correct pan from the pile Rowan left on the floor. Despite her assurances that she knows what she’s doing, Rowan can’t resist walking Aelin through the steps. Aelin decides to play along, allowing him to fuss.

Aelin slides the plate in front of him, and Rowan gazes sadly at the sandwich. “You burnt it.”

“Just that side.” Aelin rolls her eyes and flips the grilled cheese over. “This side is _perfect_.”

Rowan snorts at that, but he accepts the food just the same. He eats the sandwich without further complaint, offering Aelin a few bites as she sits beside him, rubbing his back.

“Thank you, baby,” Rowan says, resting a hand on her knee. He gives Aelin a messy kiss that makes her giggle. “You take good care of me.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Visits Rowan Whitethorn in Doranelle for His Birthday.**

Rowan isn’t in bed when Aelin wakes up. She frowns, eyeing the empty side of the bed with confusion. Aelin was really hoping to make good on Rowan’s birthday present this morning. She wanted a little bit more alone time with him before Thea returned that afternoon.

She sighs, rolling out of bed to take a shower and brush the stale taste from her mouth. Aelin still smells like the bar, and it’s not a particularly enjoyable feeling. She sighs under the warm stream of water, allowing the heat to relax her muscles and soothe her slight headache. Aelin needs water after all of the whiskey Rowan served her last night.

Rowan is still absent when Aelin gets out of the shower and searches the apartment. Rowan probably went to the gym, she guesses. Aelin knows that he doesn’t get to work out like he used to, not with his daughter taking up the majority of his time.

“Where’d you go, Buzzard?” Aelin complains aloud, but it’s no use. She’s home alone.

Without company, Aelin hangs out in the music room, fiddling with different things while she awaits the return of her boyfriend. She’s recording something when the apartment door opens at last, but Rowan doesn’t come to see her, likely hearing her at work and deciding to leave her be. Rowan never risks being on camera if he doesn’t have to.

Eventually, the smell of food lures Aelin to the kitchen. She finds her freshly showered boyfriend cooking shirtless, a dangerous but appreciated effort. Aelin admires the view a little before sneaking up behind Rowan and wrapping her arms around his middle.

Rowan doesn’t jump to her disappointment, but he does give her a kiss and a slice of bacon. “Good morning, baby,” he greets.

“Morning,” she says through her chewing.

Rowan rolls his eyes when Aelin jumps onto the counter. “I like your shirt,” he says, giving the shirt she’s wearing a pointed look. “I wondered where that one went.”

“Yeah, sorry.” She smiles proudly, completely unapologetic. ”Anyway, you can have this one back now.” Aelin tugs the hem down her thighs a little. She admits, “It doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

Rowan smiles softly at her, abandoning the food to stand in front of her and give her a kiss. Aelin hums and cups his face, kissing him back happily. When they part, he says against her lips, “You can have your pick of the others.”

It’s tempting to remind Rowan that Aelin would much rather just take _him_ with her, but she resists the urge, suspecting that Rowan feels guilty enough about the decision. Aelin knows it’s hard for him, that he feels torn between doing something impulsive and doing what’s responsible.

Instead, Aelin leans forward and catches his lips with hers for another kiss. Rowan hums happily into the kiss, his hands lying heavily on her thighs. Aelin runs her palms down his shoulders, and then she drags them down the smooth skin of his back.

Rowan sighs contentedly; he takes Aelin by the hips and pulls her to the end of the counter. Aelin gasps as Rowan nudges his way between her knees, and she spreads them to make more room for him. She pulls Rowan closer still by pulling on his lower back.

Things are just starting to shift from kissing to heavy petting when the front door flies open, causing Rowan and Aelin to spring apart in surprise. Alarm sends Aelin’s heart racing, and Rowan searches for the cause of the interruption, clearly just as confused as Aelin.

Thea appears in the kitchen entry, smiling wide. “Home honey!” She sing-songs her own version of Aelin’s signature greeting, but the toddler gasps when she recognizes Aelin. “Aelin! You back!”

“Potato!” Aelin smiles, excited to see the little girl, but as Thea’s grandmother turns the corner, Aelin’s heart sinks. Suddenly she becomes acutely aware of the fact that she isn’t wearing underwear. “What are you doing here, kid?”

“She lives here.” Lilly's eyes promise danger, and she turns those mean eyes on Rowan. “I thought you were going out with _friends_.”

“I did.” Rowan’s face is cold. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

But Lilly acts as if Rowan hasn’t spoken; she rests her hands on her hips and glares at the father of her grandchild. “I didn’t realize what you really meant was—” The woman cuts a scathing look at Aelin as the blonde tries to slide off the counter without attracting attention. Aelin freezes, nothing more than a kid caught climbing the furniture.

Lilly scoffs. “—that you needed to get rid of your daughter so you could mess around with—”

“Do. Not.” Rowan’s teeth grind together as he speaks. “Finish. That sentence.”

Thea’s wide eyes meet Aelin’s, scared and looking for support. She runs for Aelin’s side, much to her grandmother’s disapproval, wrapping her little arms around Aelin’s legs. The youngest Whitethorn doesn’t understand why the adults are upset; she was happy to see Aelin.

It makes the Aelin see red, and hateful, venomous words burn her tongue. There are a few things she’d love to get off her chest.

But, as Rowan always says, Thea comes first.

“Hey,” Aelin says to Thea, “how about we let the grownups talk, huh?”

Thea giggles at the implication that Aelin isn’t an adult, but Lilly snorts hatefully.

“Lil’.” Rowan shoots Aelin a thankful look as they leave. He turns his stern expression on his mother-in-law. “You can’t just—“

Aelin ushers Thea away quickly, and Rowan’s voice cuts off as she closes the door to the soundproof music room. She’s never considered the fact that the noise proofing worked both ways. Aelin is a little remorseful to miss out on the rest of _that_ conversation, but something tells Aelin that she won’t like whatever _Lil_ has to say. Sometimes it’s better to be left in the dark.

Thea’s eyebrows pinch together just like her father’s. She steps deeper into the room, dropping her pink unicorn backpack on the ground and looking around. Aelin knows enough to gather that Thea and her precarious juice boxes don’t get to spend a lot of time in here with the expensive sound equipment.

“Did you have fun with your grandparents?” Aelin asks, trying to distract the girl.

“Yes,” Thea says weakly.

Aelin takes a seat on the couch and pats the seat beside her. Thea flops onto the furniture, kicking her dangling feet and looking all around sad. Aelin wraps her arms around the little girl and pulls her close; Thea cuddles up to her willingly. They sit like that for a time while Aelin tries to figure out how to distract the kid.

“Hey!” Aelin feels silly when the idea comes to her. It was so obvious. “I wrote a new song. Do you wanna hear it?”

Thea sighs. “Maybe.” She’s never looked more like her father. And Aelin’s never known Thea to be so neutral on the topic of music.

Aelin pokes the kid in the ribs once, teasing. Thea cracks a smile, but even Aelin can tell that the little girl is resentful for being made to smile when she’s trying so hard to be sad. Aelin asks her, “What if I said that I wrote it for you?”

Thea perks up at that. Aelin laughs at her curious green eyes, and she gets up from the couch to take a seat at the keyboard.

> _I remember all of the things that I thought I wanted to be_
> 
> _So desperate to find a way out of my world and finally breathe_
> 
> _Right before my eyes, I saw that my heart, it came to life_
> 
> _This ain't easy, it's not meant to be_
> 
> _Every story has its scars_

Aelin takes a breath between the verse and the chorus. The words are more appropriate at this moment than she expected. It’s something she’s been messing around with on her own time; Aelin’s had a lot more of that lately. On tour, she always partied, but now, she spends a lot of time in her room trying to call Rowan and Thea.

> _But when the pain cuts you deep_
> 
> _When the night keeps you from sleeping Just look and you will see_
> 
> _That I will be your remedy_
> 
> _When the world seems so cruel_
> 
> _And your heart makes you feel like a fool I promise you will see_
> 
> _That I will be, I will be your remedy_

Thea listens with rapt attention, humming the now familiar melody. She definitely inherited Rowan’s ear for music. Aelin’s always impressed with the three-year-old’s knack for learning a tune in one listen.

She glances at Thea, who hugs her stuffed bunny and watches Aelin. The singer flashes the little girl a reassuring smile and continues to sing.

> _No river is too wide or too deep for me to swim to you_
> 
> _Come whatever, I'll be the shelter that won't let the rain come through_
> 
> _Y_ _our love, it is my truth_
> 
> _And I will always love you_
> 
> _Love you, oh_

The door opens, and Rowan enters the music room. His serious expression morphs into surprise at the sight of Aelin at the keyboard, singing Thea a song. Nervousness strikes Aelin through the heart, and she pauses in her playing.

The lyrics are more than a little telling, and suddenly, she’s nervous about singing that song in front of Rowan, of all people. It’s different from playing the music for Thea. It almost makes her feel caught—as if she were doing something bad.

“Don’t stop,” Thea pleads. Rowan smiles encouragingly, and that seals Aelin’s fate.

> _When the pain cuts you deep_
> 
> _When the night keeps you from sleeping_
> 
> _Just look and you will see I will be, I will be_
> 
> _When the world seems so cruel_
> 
> _And your heart makes you feel like a fool I promise you will see_
> 
> _That I will be, I will be, I will be_
> 
> _Your remedy, mm-hm, mm-hmm_

Thea is the first to break the silence that follows the end of the song. “That was good!” she cheers, clapping excitedly. Thea will always be Aelin’s number one fan. “You sing so pretty!”

“Thanks, Thee.” Aelin smiles at Rowan’s daughter, and then she looks towards him, nervous to see his reaction. Silver lines the father’s eyes, making tears threaten Aelin’s.

“Ae—“ Rowan struggles to find the words he’s looking for.

Aelin laughs nervously. “That bad, huh?”

“What? No!” Rowan clears his throat, looking guilty. “No,” he repeats more calmly.

Thea chimes in, saving her dumbstruck father. “Aelin wrote a song for me!”

Aelin’s face floods with heat. She’s definitely busted now. She ducks her head to hide her blush, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “I did,” she says softly.

Rowan squeezes Aelin’s shoulder as he passes. “Is that so?” he asks his daughter, sparing Aelin by pretending not to notice her flustered appearance. He sits beside Thea.

His daughter hops into his lap, and Aelin laughs as the air whooshes out of Rowan’s lungs from the impact. “Can she play my song again, Daddy?”

“Why don’t you ask her, Thee?” Rowan’s patience is infallible.

Thea does as she’s told. “Will you play my song, Aelin?”

She swallows as two Whitethorn smiles land on her. Aelin laughs nervously. She wants to say no, but Aelin knows she couldn’t if she tried. “Sure thing, Potato.”

Aelin spins around on the bench and plays the song one more time. She pretends that her fingers don’t tremble, and Rowan says nothing when she messes up a chord transition, sensing her nerves. Thea sings along to the best of her ability.

She feels foolish as she fades out the last chord, even as Thea stands on the couch and cheers.

Rowan’s eyes say everything, though. _That was beautiful._ He spares her a watery smile. _I love you._

##  **Rowan Whitethorn Shares Rare Photo of Daughter, Thea Whitethorn.**


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for adult content.

##  **Spotted: Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn Share A Kiss Outside Pub, The White Stag.**

Aelin spends the rest of the day with Rowan and Thea. She knows she should probably go out to lunch with her parents or go to see Lys and Aedion, but Aelin can’t make herself feel bad for choosing to spend time with the Whitethorns instead.

“Dance party!” Thea announces, jumping off the couch like a hero in an action movie. Rowan’s face pales as his daughter flies through the air, and he relaxes only once she sticks the landing, giggling at her success. The way her nose wrinkles when she smiles, strikes Aelin through the heart.

Rowan lets out an unsteady laugh, but per Thea’s request, he grabs a guitar and sets it in his lap. He shoots Aelin a wink, and they follow Thea’s lead, smiling at the little girl’s happiness. Her delight only grows as the adults start to play for her, accompanying the lyrics that Thea chooses to sing at random. Sometimes, she even switches songs mid-verse as if just to test their mettle.

When Thea starts to make up her own lyrics, the adults have to improvise, and Aelin struggles not to laugh so hard that she starts to mess up. It looks like Rowan and Aelin aren’t the only songwriters in the room.

After, Rowan flashes Aelin a grin as Thea takes a bow. He says, “You might have some competition here, Aelin.”

The singer has never found the idea so delightful.

##  **Is Rowan Whitethorn Dating Again?**

Bedtime comes all too soon for any of their liking.

“Sweet dreams, Potato,” Aelin coos, rising from the bed after kissing the top of her head. Thea sighs in a way that reminds Aelin of a pouting, drunk Rowan, and she just manages to bite back the giggle that threatens at the mental comparison. Like father, like daughter.

“Sweet dreams,” Thea says around a displeased frown.

Rowan chuckles at his kid, trading places with Aelin to wish Thea his own goodnight. The three-year-old grumbles back and Aelin smiles at them. A stubborn match made in heaven. Rowan takes it in stride, saying, “Have a good night, love.”

“Goodnight,” she tells them both as they leave. “Love you.”

Aelin somehow manages to suppress her giggles until they’re in the hallway, just out of earshot of Thea’s open door. Her star night light casts an eerie purple glow in the hall, turning Rowan’s features stark with contrast. He huffs when Aelin buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her laughter, but Rowan’s fingers curl around her elbows to hold her close.

He kisses her hair. “I can’t believe that I almost had to fight to the death for you, Ace,” Rowan says of the heated debate he just had with Thea. His daughter was adamant that it was _her_ turn for a slumber party with Aelin.

Amusement crinkles his eyes. “Never thought I’d have to fight my child for custody of my girlfriend.”

Aelin presses a kiss to the corner of Rowan’s mouth and asks, “Is it weird to say that I’m fucking stoked about it? That she likes me so much?”

“Nah.” Rowan rubs her back and hugs Aelin closer without further explanation. He presses his nose into her hair, breathing her in deeply before releasing a heavy sigh.

She squeezes him back tightly. Aelin can tell that he needs the comfort, so she doesn’t loosen her grip until Rowan does. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Rowan huffs, his breath tickling her ear. “No.” A heavy pause. “I mean, _yes_ , but no—not now.”

Aelin leans back and makes a face. The expression speaks for itself, and Rowan wrinkles his nose unhappily. He nods towards his bedroom and leads Aelin that way, further out of earshot. The door to his room closes with an audible click.

“I just—“ Rowan pulls at his hair. “I don’t get her problem,” he says, his words coming out in a rush, and Aelin knows immediately that he’s speaking of Lilly. “And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. In the end, I’m not her son.”

He grimaces. “That feels so shitty to say, but her daughter and I were separated. It was over—even if they felt otherwise.”

Aelin asks the question with her eyes, so Rowan explains, “Lyria’s parents are of the mindset that you stay in a shitty marriage _for the sake of the kid_.” He runs his hands through his hair again. “Their daughter and I decided that it should be the opposite.”

“Ah.” Aelin nods. “No wonder that Lilly doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t like _me_ ,” Rowan corrects, repeating his answer from the last time Aelin said such a thing. He groans. “I get that I’m the bad guy because I _totally fucking am_ , but that doesn’t give her the right to act like that. And definitely not in front of my daughter.”

Aelin waits, sensing that Rowan isn’t quite yet finished.

“Gods,” he says under his breath. “I wanted to fucking lose it on her, but Thea was right _there_.” Rowan looks to Aelin. “Thank you, by the way. For taking care of her.”

“Thea comes first,” Aelin echoes Rowan’s mantra.

Her boyfriend breaks into the kind of smile that makes Aelin feel self-conscious, but Rowan tugs on her wrist to draw her in before she can run away. He cups Aelin’s face in his hands, kisses her soft and sweet. Aelin melts into Rowan, linking her fingers behind his back and pressing her chest to his.

Rowan pulls away just a little to say, “I love you.” He bumps her nose with his and turns Aelin’s heart to mush. “You know that, right?”

“No, I didn’t,” Aelin teases. “This is news to me.”

Rowan rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known that was coming” He cuts her a look. “You ruined a perfectly good moment there, Ace.”

Aelin rises to her tiptoes to kiss him again, and Rowan’s stern expression softens as her lips brush his. She giggles at him; her boyfriend is very easily won over. “I love you, too,” she says against his lips. “Very much.”

Rowan gives her another kiss, and then he pulls away. Aelin laughs brightly as Rowan turns the lock to his bedroom, and she drapes her arms across his shoulders when he returns to her. He pulls her in close for another kiss, this one long and slow.

“Wait,” Aelin murmurs again Rowan’s lips when his touches start to turn heavy. “Rowan—” The man in question huffs a breath against her neck, and Aelin fails to suppress a shiver. Her laugh is unsteady. “Hang on just a second, baby.”

“Where are you going?” Rowan pouts adorably when Aelin pulls away, backing away from him slowly.

“To change.” Aelin smiles slyly. “Pick a color.”

Rowan’s eyes light up with interest. He doesn’t hesitate, saying, “Green.”

“Oh.” Aelin frowns, stopping in her retreat. She clarifies, “The options are black or red.”

“Red,” he replies with a wry smile.

Aelin smiles. “Great! I’ll be right back—two seconds.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Rowan grumbles, spinning on his heels and falling backward onto his bed in defeat. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Aelin laughs loudly at his dramatics; she loves it when Rowan gets silly. It isn’t nearly as regular an occurrence as she’d like for it to be. Aelin ignores his complaints, hurrying to get changed before Rowan can fall asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time that Buzzard of hers dozed off while she finished “just one more email.”

This time around, though, it doesn’t take her quite as long to get ready. The little red nightgown is far less complicated than the bodysuit she wore for Rowan’s birthday. That little number would have to make a reappearance some other time.

Rowan is still sprawled across the bed when Aelin re-enters the room. There’s a fist pressed to his forehead, and a frown pulls his lips downward, but he manages a weak smile when he notices Aelin standing before him in her negligee.

She sighs. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Sorry, baby,” Rowan tells her. He sits up, and Aelin moves to stand between his knees. Rowan gives her a kiss, and his hands land on her hips. “You look beautiful.” He gives her another kiss, this one to her pulse point. “Very sexy.”

Aelin nuzzles his face, dragging her nose across his cheek to kiss him yet again. Rowan fingers slide up her ribs, and his thumbs brush the underside of her breasts. The feeling makes her breath hitch, and Rowan takes that as his cue to trail his lips down her throat.

“You always look great, Aelin.” His voice is low as his nose brushes the lace panel of the nightgown. The scandalously deep V created by the lace is Aelin’s favorite part. She’s glad Rowan seems to like it too, despite his sour mood.

Aelin tangles her fingers in his hair and meets his lips for another kiss. Rowan squeezes her waist, responding in turn, but Aelin can feel that his mind is elsewhere. She suspects that she knows just where exactly, too.

“It’s okay, you know,” she says gently, “if you aren’t in the mood anymore.”

“What?” Rowan’s green eyes are surprised.

“It’s okay. If the thing with Lilly ruined the mood.” Rowan frowns at her, and Aelin kisses his forehead. “I can tell that it's still on your mind.”

Rowan huffs. “Yes, but I’m trying very hard not to let that—” He chokes on whatever he was going to say, and Aelin smiles. Rowan’s never been very good at insulting women. “—that _woman_ ruin my evening with you. Not before you leave again.”

“Baby,” Aelin coos. She kisses his nose, shifting to sit in his lap.

Rowan finds her lips with his and kisses her soft and sweet. The separation like this, so early in their relationship, has proven to be a real test of endurance for them, but Aelin doesn’t know what she was worried about. Rowan wasn’t going anywhere.

“I love you,” she whispers against his cheek. He returns the sentiment with a deep kiss, and Aelin forgets for a little while what else she wanted to say. She continues when they break for air, “And while I don’t know what was said—'' Rowan's jaw goes tense at that, and Aelin runs her thumb across his jawline, an attempt to soothe him. “—I can and _will_ say that you are an _amazing_ dad, Rowan. Thea is a very lucky little girl.”

Rowan is quiet for so long that Aelin starts to get worried. Maybe she’s overstepped her boundaries, crossed a line that she didn’t know about.

Then, “Thank you.” His green eyes are warm. Vulnerable. “I needed to hear that.”

Aelin smiles, kisses him again. “Anytime.”

##  **The Internet Goes Wild Over the Return of Rowaelin.**

Rowan makes good on his promises from yesterday, spreading Aelin out atop his bed to have his way with her. He takes his time exploring every inch of her skin left exposed by the little nightgown, tracing every hill and valley with fingers, teeth, and tongue. Rowan doesn’t relent until Aelin’s body is trembling, shivering as she comes on his tongue. Then his fingers.

“ _Oh, Rowan.”_ Her voice is hoarse from crying out. “Oh, gods, that was so good.”

Rowan laughs softly. “Yeah?”

Aelin hums, her brain too sex-addled to formulate a proper response. Instead, she pulls his face to hers for a kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his tongue. It's hot as hell, even more so as Rowan rolls her onto her stomach before removing his pants.

“Is this how you want me, baby?” she asks. Her breath is low and husky even to her own ears, but with Rowan, Aelin doesn’t find it embarrassing. Not like she would with someone else.

Rowan hums in agreement and runs his hand down her back. The back of the nightgown matches the front, and Aelin shivers at the feeling of his warm fingers running down her spine. He says, “I do like this thing. Is it okay if we leave it on?”

“Whatever you want,” Aelin breathes the words.

She sighs as Rowan covers her body with his own. He hovers, trailing his lips up and down her spine before turning his attention back to her neck. Aelin has to bite her lip to muffle the needy sounds threatening to escape, but Rowan notices anyway. He releases a dark chuckle, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Gods, I’m going to miss you, baby.” Rowan pinches her chin between two fingers and turns her head to kiss her over her shoulder once more. Rowan sighs heavily. “Fuck. I already miss you.”

“Baby,” Aelin coos. “I’ll be home soon. Two months is no time.”

Rowan releases the most adorable whine that Aelin has ever heard. She giggles at him but gasps when he nips her ear in retribution. His hands slide up her sides, wrapping around her middle, and Rowan presses his nose into the crook of her neck and shoulders.

He hugs her tightly. “I’ve missed having you in my bed.”

“I’ve missed being in your bed,” Aelin whispers. She senses more than sees his pleased smile; Aelin can feel the ghost of it against her neck as Rowan kisses her there. His lips are heavy and purposeful against her throat, making her shiver. Rowan has learned just how to make Aelin melt these past months together.

Seven months. It happened so quickly.

“I’m in your bed now,” Aelin reminds him, “but you’re just complaining.”

Rowan huffs, and Aelin giggles at the indignant sound. He shifts away from her, leaving the skin of her back cold, before taking her by the hips and lining himself up. Aelin gasps at the feeling of his cock nudging between her folds, and she moans wantonly as Rowan gathers her wetness with the head of his cock before sliding inside.

“Oh. Fuck.” Rowan sinks his teeth into her shoulder to keep himself quiet. Aelin’s own moan is a little louder than expected. It echoes in the dark, quiet room, and Aelin flushes. She hopes that Rowan’s insistence that nothing can wake Thea up is true.

Aelin leans forward on her elbows, moaning as Rowan begins to move. He starts slowly, giving her the time to adjust to his intrusion; his breathing is already heavy and a little ragged. Aelin glances over her shoulder to look at Rowan. That’s her only complaint about this position; Aelin misses the eye contact. And the kissing.

She’s met with the sight of Rowan kneeling behind her, his legs between her as he thrusts. It’s a pretty damn good view.

“ _Oh_.” Rowan groans as he presses deeper. Aelin cries out, too, and she laughs, a little embarrassed by her own eagerness. Rowan chuckles, leaning forward to kiss her, but he only reaches as far as her back with his lips. He says, “Don’t turn shy on me _now_ , Aelin.”

“Sorry.” Aelin hates how a blush threatens her. Rowan’s always had his own special way of shattering through her bravado. She adds, “My fingers just aren’t as good as your cock.”

Rowan’s hips stutter. “Shit.”

This time Aelin laughs at him. “It’s the truth.”

“My poor baby,” Rowan says, running his hand across her ass. “I’m here now. Let me take care of you.”

He spanks her once, and Aelin gasps. Rowan groans as her muscles tighten around him, but he keeps moving. Aelin savors the feeling of every push and pull, but on her stomach like this, Aelin can’t rock back into him. Her role in this position is passive at best.

Yet, when she tries to get to her knees, Rowan stops her. He presses the palm of his hand into her lower back to keep her on her belly. “Don’t move.” He laughs when she whimpers a protest. “I’ve got you, Aelin. Just… let me fuck you, baby.”

Rowan’s words make Aelin moan, and she decides to submit to his wants, to allow him to do whatever he wants. Aelin sinks deeper into the mattress and tries to clear her brain of its many thoughts; instead, Aelin focuses on the sound of Rowan moving behind her, his heavy breathing and muffled moans. Her mind focuses on the feeling of his thumbs pressing into her lower back and how it feels as his cock moves inside of her. The tension in her builds.

“ _Oh, Rowan_.” He hums in response, keeping an indulgent pace that makes Aelin’s toes curl. It’s simultaneously not enough and so much. Aelin tells him, “You feel so good inside me, baby.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Yeah?”

“ _Yes._ ” Aelin likes that she can unravel him with just a few encouraging words. She adds, “I love it when you fuck me like this.”

“Gods.” Rowan’s hips move just a little faster, and his fingers reach for her hair, pulling on it just a bit. He asks, “Like how, Aelin?”

“Nice and slow,” she explains, “like you’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“ _Aelin_.” His voice breaks around another groan. Rowan’s laugh is unsteady. “You’re going to cut this short.”

She giggles, her voice airy and too high-pitched. “That’s okay, too.”

Rowan changes his position, pressing his chest against her back. Aelin hums at the feeling of his weight, at the feel of their skin sliding against each other; she twists, seeking out his lips for another kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated, with too much teeth and little finesse, but Aelin doesn’t mind.

Rowan slides a hand beneath her, using a finger to rub at her sensitive clit, and Aelin sucks in a breath of surprise. “ _Oh, gods._ ”

“Aelin, uh,” he groans, “you’re going to make me fucking come.”’

Her body tightens in anticipation, her back arching backward into his. Aelin white-knuckles the bedsheet, moaning as Rowan takes her hair in his hands and tugs again. She reaches behind her, looking for some part of Rowan to hold onto, to ground herself with.

He takes her hand in his, says, “You’re doing so good, baby.”

Aelin moans something that sounds like Rowan’s name.

“Good girl,” he praises, and Aelin’s toes curl.

“Oh,” she gasps. “ _Rowan_. Uh, don’t stop. Just like that.”

“Yeah?” Rowan presses a kiss to her shoulder. Aelin moans. The feeling of his fingers on her clit and his cock inside her has Aelin balancing just at the precipice, and Rowan can tell. He says, “That’s it, baby. I’m right here; I’ve got you. I want you to come for me, Aelin.”

Aelin keens when the knot in her belly snaps. Rowan groans loudly, but his hips don’t still, dragging out her orgasm while chasing his own. She gasps his name, squeezing his fingers with her own so hard that it has to be painful for him, but Rowan doesn’t let go.

“Oh, Aelin.” Rowan pants, thrusting with more urgency. The desperation in his voice tells Aelin that he’s close. “Aelin. _Baby._ ” He starts to babble. “You feel so good, baby. Shit, I love you. _Oh_. So much. Fuck, I’m—”

Rowan groans loudly as he finds release. His hips start to slow, and he mutters more sweet nothings to Aelin while pressing kisses to her shoulders, her neck, the side of her face. Aelin hums, soaking up the affection, and she whimpers as he pulls away. He rolls onto his back beside her.

Suddenly, laughter bubbles out of Aelin. She doesn’t mean for it to happen, but once she starts, Aelin can’t seem to stop. Rowan drops his head to the side to look at her, and he furrows his brow.

“Something funny there, Ae?” The offense is evident in his voice.

“N-no.” Aelin struggles to speak. “It’s just—” She bites her lip, holding her breath to stifle the giggles. Once they pass, she speaks again, “I have to _pry_ words out of you sometimes, Buzzard.” Rowan huffs, and Aelin grins. “Yet, I get you in bed, and I can’t seem to shut you up.”

“Was it too much?” he asks, suddenly looking insecure. Rowan looks concerned. Thoughtful. “Sometimes, I feel like I go overboard.”

“What?” Aelin blinks. “ _No_.” When Rowan looks unconvinced, she adds, “Gods, Rowan. No. It’s so fucking hot.” She scoots closer to him, presses her lips to his. “I fucking love it. Please, don’t ever stop.”

Arrogance takes over his features. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Aelin fights the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she asks, “So, do you wanna come talk dirty to me in the shower?”

Rowan’s laugh is strained. “Gods, you’re insatiable.”

Aelin pouts at him, and Rowan pulls her in for another kiss. She says, “I already told you that I’ve barely been able to get off without you.”

“Really?” He looks surprised. “Like at all?”

“I—” Another blush threatens Aelin’s face. She has to clear her throat before explaining herself; Aelin doesn’t know why this admission makes her feel embarrassed, but it does. “I mean, I get _there_ , but it’s… subpar?”’

Rowan tugs her close. “Baby,” he says softly. He presses a kiss to her lips. “Why didn’t you say something? Give me a call?”

“Really?” Aelin raises her eyebrows. “Like. Phone sex?”

“Yeah.” He brushes her messy hair out of her face and smiles. “I would’ve talked you through it, baby.” Rowan kisses her temple. It’s oddly sweet for the conversation at hand. “I’ll always take care of you.”

Aelin’s blood heats at the thought. “I thought you were kidding,” she says. ”That you were just playing along with Elide’s dirty joke.”

“I was,” he confirms, “but I also meant it.” Rowan's smile is full of promise as he tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Next time, give me a call.”

“Oh,” is all she manages to say. “Huh. Okay.”

Rowan’s smile turns sharp. “Now, go get the water warm, and I’ll come join you.”

Aelin beams at him, rolling out of bed with far too much excitement. Rowan laughs, reaching after her to smack her ass as Aelin retreats, and the blonde squeals with delight and a little surprise. Her boyfriend has made it no secret how he feels about that particular asset.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Buzzard!” she calls over her shoulder.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, voice rich with laughter.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Remains Silent on the Matter of Rowan Whitethorn.**

“Baby.” Rowan’s fingers brush through her hair. Aelin both savors and detests the gentle wake up call; she whines, burrowing her face into his chest. Rowan’s chuckle echoes in her ear. “Baby, you have to get up now.”

“No,” she protests.

“If you don’t get up now,” he says, whisper-soft, “you won’t be able to stop at home on the way to the airport.”

To get some fresh clothes, Aelin remembers. She told Rowan to wake her up; she needed to stop by her apartment and change some luggage. Gods, she’s never hated his considerate, helpful personality more.

“Can’t,” she replies. Rowan snorts. “I live here now.”

Rowan sighs, but he keeps playing with her hair. It’s all the encouragement that Aelin needs to stay in bed, planted atop Rowan with her eyes closed in contentment. She hums happily when Rowan presses a kiss to her brow, and she snuggles in, planning to fall back asleep.

“You could, you know,” he says, softly. Aelin’s attention snags on the uncertainty in his voice. “Uh, live here.” A pause. “If you wanted to.”

Aelin tilts her head, resting her chin on Rowan’s chest and peering up at him incredulously. He clears his throat uncomfortably, and Aelin waits for him to explain himself. Rowan doesn’t; in fact, he avoids eye contact entirely.

“That’s how you wanna ask that question?” she asks when he remains silent. Rowan’s eyes snap to hers, petrified. “You’re just going to drop that in there? _You could, you know. If you wanted to._ ”

Rowan narrows his eyes at her, unamused by Aelin’s mockery of his voice. She ignores the look and pulls away, sitting upright. This seems like the kind of thing couples should discuss while vertical.

“It’s not like I asked you to marry me,” he defends. The thought makes her heart skip a beat. Rowan smiles wryly. “I know better than to do that without having something shiny to bribe you with.”

“Good,” Aelin says, prim. “I will accept nothing less than a ring befitting a king.”

“A queen,” Rowan counters smoothly, sitting up to lean against the headboard. Aelin blinks at him in surprise. He cracks a grin, says, “Or, better yet, a rockstar.”

“Now you’re talking,” Aelin says, and they share a smile.

Rowan takes her hand in his, playing idly with her fingers. “That doesn’t… scare you? Make you nervous?”

“No, of course not.” A pause. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know.” The words feel honest, and Rowan shrugs. “I think I keep waiting for you to realize that you could do way better than me.”

“Rowan.” She waits for him to look her way. “That’s not going to happen,” she swears. “I waited a long time for this—for you.” Aelin clears her throat. “So, you’re stuck with me. Sorry to disappoint.”

Aelin squeezes his fingers, and Rowan sends her a lopsided grin. “Does that mean I can skip the ring?”

“Definitely not,” Aelin tells him. They laugh.

“So, uh,” Rowan coughs to clear his throat, “what’s your answer?”

Aelin raises a brow. Rowan recognizes it for the challenge it is and sits up a little straighter. Aelin’s smile is sly. “I don’t believe you asked me a question, Buzzard.”

Rowan blushes adorably. “Oh.” He coughs to clear his throat and looks her in the eye. “Will you move in with me?” A heavy pause. “With both of us?”

His words make Aelin think of the little girl sleeping down the hall. The one who tried to barter her stuffed bunny last night in exchange for a sleepover with Aelin. She smiles at Rowan when she notices him watching her, pretending not to be nervous.

“I’d love to, but on one condition.” Aelin struggles not to laugh at her nervous boyfriend’s frown. “We make this place our home base. For Thea.”

“I, uh, thought we’d move to your townhouse or somewhere bigger—” He cuts off, and understanding blooms on Rowan’s face. “You don’t want to uproot her,” Rowan says as if it’s obvious, and it is. The last thing Aelin wants is to mix up that little girl’s life. Again.

“Yes.” Aelin sighs. “Fleetfoot and I are nomads. It doesn’t bother us where we lay our heads for the night, but Thea… This is her home.” A thought comes to Aelin’s mind, and her eyes widen with worry. “Have you talked to Thea already?”

Panic hits Aelin like a bucket of ice water. “Oh, gods. I— What if she doesn’t—”

“Ae, relax.” Rowan’s eyes crinkle. “Thea already thinks you live here, if I’m perfectly honest. These last four months, all I’ve heard from her is, ‘Where is Aelin?’ and ‘Will Aelin be home for dinner?’”

“Oh.” Aelin smiles. “Home?”

Rowan smiles. “Yeah. Home.”

##  **The History of Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn’s Relationship.**


	62. Chapter 62

##  **Aelin Galathynius Aims Her Sights on the Southern Continent.**

“Good evening, Antica!” Aelin screams into the stadium. A semicircle wall of cellphone lights shines down at her, and Aelin can almost believe she was out in the country somewhere watching the night sky, if not for the way those stars were screaming back at her.

She laughs bright and happy. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

Aelin walks along the edge of the stage, close enough to make eye contact with those upfront but far enough away to avoid being grabbed. It’s a twisted thing, wanting these people to love her and enjoy her presence while also afraid of those consequences. But Aelin’s never forgotten about The Cadre show when security had to pry her ankle out of a man’s grasp in the middle of _Teenage Dirtbag_.

“So, if you don’t know, my name is Aelin.” She smiles at the cheering. “Good. That could’ve gone really awkward.” A little laugh. “I know you all don’t think that happens to me, but it totally does.” 

The audience laughs with her, and Aelin toes the stage floor with her heeled boot. Her feet are going to absolutely kill her by the end of the evening, but she and Manon agreed that heels were essential for any outfit. Aelin’s days of scuffed-up combat boots and jeans were way behind her. 

“I met Bon Jovi a while back,” she tells them. “ _So awkward_.”

Aelin never anticipated being a solo act, much less a pop star. It still took her by surprise sometimes that anyone gave enough of a shit for her to make it so far. And yet, “The man had absolutely no idea who I was.” A pause. “But he did say that he liked my hair. I think it was like royal purple or something.”

She props a hand on her hip, looking thoughtful. “I should dye my hair again. I’ve been blonde way too long.”

The crowd laughs. “Any color suggestions?”

On cue, Elide starts to transition into their next song. It’s a tactic they’ve worked out for when Aelin starts to go on one of her tangents; the woman almost likes to talk as much as she likes to sing. Aelin flashes the crowd a big smile.

“Allow me to introduce the band, yeah?” The crowd cheers.

##  **AG Fever Takes Balruhn by Storm.**

“Alright, Balruhn!” Aelin shouts over the screaming crowd, “I’d like you to meet my _wife_ , Elide!”

The lead guitarist plays her special solo, flashes Aelin a knowing smile, and then slips away. Elide may come off as the shy sort, but Aelin has yet to meet a lead guitarist who didn’t like to show off a little. There’s a reason why they’re in charge.

“She’s not really my wife,” Aelin says with a frown. “Though I did try really hard one night to get her to say yes to me—” She smiles wryly “—after a bottle or two of wine—” The crowd chuckles. “during the _Fireheart Tour_. Can you believe she said no? I’m awesome.”

Aelin waits for the applause to fade, savoring the attention. “Who wouldn’t want to marry Elide?” Aelin muses aloud. “She’s totally hot.” A thoughtful hum. “Then again, I always have been partial to a guitarist.”

The crowd goes batshit, and it takes Aelin a moment to realize what she’s done. What she’s said. Aelin knows her surprise is written all over her face, magnified on the mega screen behind her. People laugh, including Lorcan, and Elide sends her a naughty wink. 

Aelin can’t help the clever smile, and she brings one finger to her lips. “This stays between us, Balruhn—between me and all… eighty thousand of you, okay?”

They laugh at her. Aelin knows well that videos of this moment will be all over the internet in the morning, theories about who she’s referring to, more theories about what other guitarists Aelin’s had a thing with. Or is having a thing with. Aelin can’t wait to tell Rowan about it, even if she knows he’ll laugh at her expense.

“Okay!” Aelin changes the subject. “So, you all will know this _next_ asshole—”

##  **Tigana’s Aelin Galathynius Concert Delayed Because of Rain.**

“Lorcan Salvaterre!” Aelin laughs at the screams, despite herself. It’s no secret how popular her fellow bandmate is with her fans. Aelin suspects it has something to do with all of the shirtless and sweaty gym selfies on his Instagram. Ew.

She rolls her eyes as the drum solo drags on. Aelin taunts, “Tigana, I think he’s showing off for you.”

More applause. When the solo continues on, Aelin reaches over the drum set to yank the man’s hair. Lorcan growls at her, bearing his teeth, and the audience breaks into laughter. He’s the brother Aelin’s never had. 

“For the record, he’s not as cool as he thinks he is,” she says earnestly, heading back to center stage. Her voice fills the stadium. “Lor is a total chicken. He needs someone to hold his hand during scary movies.

“And he _snores_!” Aelin makes a face. “Like a fucking trucker. I’d know; I’ve spent enough time on a tour bus with him.”

“Can confirm,” Elide chirps into her mic, much to the delight of the audience. Lorcan looks outraged by the betrayal. “But he is an excellent cuddler.”

“This is true.” Aelin grins. “He’s a big teddy bear—a grouchy, snoring one.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Sells Out Torre Cesme.**

“You did not.” Rowan’s laughter is rich and warm after Aelin recounts the guitarist story to him a few days later. She smiles widely, despite him not being able to see it, and climbs into her bed, sighing at the feeling of the fresh sheets against her skin. It was a long, hot show, and Aelin was ready for some sleep.

He says, “You walked yourself right into one.”

“At first, I didn’t understand why everyone was howling, and then it just clicked. Gods, I’m so dumb.” Aelin huffs, rubbing her face. “Well, I guess it makes up for the fact that literally nothing wanted to work tonight.” 

Rowan’s voice is wry. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse. Why does everything _always_ go wrong when I come to Torre Cesme?” Aelin laughs. “No one can say I lip-sync ever again.”

Rowan chuckles. “Yes, there’s that at least.”

“Is it okay, though?” Aelin sits up in bed, feeling nervous. They agreed not to hide their relationship, but at the same time, Aelin wasn’t sure where the line was. “That I unintentionally, indirectly mentioned you and our relationship?”

“I’d like it better if it were just intentionally direct,” Rowan says light-hearted, surprising Aelin. He sighs. “Aelin, I’m not opposed to you going around telling people you have a boyfriend.” He laughs to himself. “Please, let everyone know that you’re off the market.”

Aelin laughs. “Are you jealous, Buzzard?”

“Terribly.” A pause. “I mean, no, uh—” Rowan makes a strangled noise. “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s cute listening to you dig your grave like this,” Aelin tells him. “It’s a nice reminder that I’m not the only inept one in this relationship.”

“You’re not inept, Ae.” His sigh is long-suffering. “But, yes, I do get jealous, but a perfectly _reasonable_ and completely _healthy_ amount.” Rowan huffs a breath as Aelin giggles at his expense. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m allowed to be upset when someone flirts with you.” A pause. “Right?”

“It’d upset me more if it didn’t bother you.” Aelin laughs. “Do you remember Cassian Guerra’s party?”

Rowan growls at the memory. “All I remember is being absolutely petrified of being alone with you. So much so that I got totally shitfaced and made a fool of myself.”

“I was so—” Aelin stops. “Wait. What?”

“You let me drink all of the whiskey,” he says, “and I got so drunk that you practically had to carry me to your apartment. I don’t remember much, but I do remember _that_. I was so embarrassing.”

“Not that,” Aelin says. “The other thing. You were afraid of me?”

“I believe I said _petrified,_ ” Rowan says without shame. “But can you blame me? Gods, Aelin. You should’ve seen yourself. Nobody should have any kind of right to look that good while half-drunk and dancing with Cassian Guerra.”

“Pretty sure I was sober when Cassian dragged me away,” Aelin muses, “though I am noticing a pattern.”

“What pattern?” Rowan’s voice is defensive.

Aelin laughs again. “ _Cassian._ Baby, tell me you aren’t jealous of that idiot. He’s my friend.”

“Of course not,” Rowan speaks too quickly. He releases a heavy sigh. “But you sure do have a lot of attractive friends.”

“I do,” Aelin agrees, and she wishes suddenly that she could see Rowan’s face, trace the downturn of his grumpy scowl with her fingertips. That always serves to make him smile. “For example, I happen to find you _very_ attractive.” 

Aelin can feel his pride leaking through the phone. It makes her grin. “By far, the sexiest friend I have. Hands down.”

Rowan huffs a laugh. “Now you’re just making fun of me, Aelin.”

“Only a little,” she says around her smile. 

##  **The Isles Welcomes Aelin Galathynius Tour Buses with a Round of Applause.**

She’s nearly finished introducing the band to the Red Isles crowd when Asterin Blackbeak steps onto the stage. Aelin doesn’t know why the woman has joined her, but this wouldn’t be the first time her team of people has goofed around during a performance. They try not to take themselves too seriously.

“Everyone meet Asterin!” The crowd cheers wildly. Aelin slings an arm over the woman’s shoulders, and Asterin shoots her a feral grin. That’s never a good sign coming from either of the Blackbeak cousins; those two were prone to causing her trouble.

“I’m not really sure what she’s doing out here.” Aelin gives the stylist a pointed look. Though it was only Manon that Aelin hired, she somehow ended up with Asterin, too. Not that she was complaining. “As far as I’m aware, As isn’t able to play any instruments.”

“Can you hold a tune? The next song is your favorite.” Feeling troublesome, Aelin offers the other blonde the mic. The audience roars, but Asterin waves the mic away with a frown. 

“No?” Aelin turns towards the crowd, makes an ominous face. “That can only mean one thing: I have something on my face.”

The crowd assures her otherwise, but still, Aelin turns to Asterin. “Is there something on my face?”

“You’re impossible,” Asterin tells her. The stylist smiles. “I was told to deliver this to you. It’s an emergency.”

Asterin holds out a phone that looks suspiciously like Aelin’s. The singer arches a brow in question, but the stylist gestures impatiently. Aelin takes the phone with slight hesitation and holds it to her ear. “Hello?”

A very desperate sounding Rowan replies, “I’m _so fucking_ sorry.”

“Rowan?” Aelin says, turning her back to the audience. She’s flooded with the standard kind of panic that comes from anyone giving her that kind of greeting. Aelin tucks her mic behind her back and asks, “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yes—no.” Her boyfriend takes a deep breath.

“Well, which one is it?” Aelin asks gently. “I’m kind of in the middle of introductions.”

“Shit, I know.” Rowan groans, and then Aelin hears it. Thea screams bloody murder in the background, the sound of a very irritable three-year-old. “I just—” The crying gets closer, and the stress in Rowan’s voice multiplies. “Can you tell Thea goodnight?”

“What? Really?” Aelin doesn’t mean for it to come out so sharply, but it does. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine,” Rowan answers. “It’s just that Thea _refuses_ to go to sleep until we’ve spoken to you, and I missed your call earlier, and now she’s—” Another ear-splitting screech. “—unhappy,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh.” Aelin realizes that she didn’t check her phone before curtain. Rowan probably did call her back for their evening ritual of tucking in Thea. “Shit, yeah. Put her on.”

“Thank you,” the desperate father says.

Aelin turns back towards the audience as she waits for Thea. She holds the mic to her lips, “Sorry, Firehearts. I know this is totally uncool, but duty calls.” She makes a face, afraid to say too much. “Two more seconds.” Aelin lifts the phone back to her ear. “Thea?”

A familiar sniffle. “Aelin?”

“Hey, Potato. What’s cooking?” Like magic, the girl breaks into giggles, and Aelin’s heart squeezes in her chest. She misses the shit out of this little girl. 

“I hear you’re giving your dad a hard time?” she asks, her voice light and teasing. The toddler mumbles a denial, and Aelin smiles at the phone. “It’s your bedtime, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” A succinct Whitethorn answer. 

“I’m sorry I missed your call earlier.” Aelin tells her, “Would it make it better if I get my friends to wish you goodnight? Will that help you go to sleep?”

Rowan protests in the background, “Aelin, that’s not necessary—”

“Yes!” Thea’s excitement is palpable. She doesn’t know where Aelin is or that the singer is in the middle of a show, but Thea is always excited to talk to strangers over the phone. She’s well known amongst Aelin’s team for stealing the phone away and involving herself in Aelin’s business meetings.

Aelin laughs and turns back towards the audience, trading the phone for the mic. “Alright, everybody.” She flashes them a smile. “This is going to be by far my strangest request of an audience to date, but on the count of three, I need you all to _scream_ , ‘Goodnight, Potato.’ Okay?”

Some people laugh, and others cheer. Aelin laughs nervously. “Cool. So. One!”

Lorcan revs them up with a drum roll. “Two!”

Aelin sucks in a deep breath and holds the phone out toward the audience. Only the gods know if Thea will understand the chaos about to unfold, but this is the best the singer can do on such short notice. She shouts, “THREE!”

“ _Goodnight, Potato!”_

“Oh, wow. That was just embarrassing.” Aelin makes a face. “You can totally do better than that. One more time, on the count of three.”

She counts them down, and the crowd screams, “GOODNIGHT, POTATO.”

“Now we’re talking!” Thea’s giggling fills the stadium as Aelin holds the mic to the phone. The little girl tells the crowd, “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

Aelin yanks the mic away from the phone before either Rowan or Thea can say something else. There’s no telling what might come out of either of the Whitethorns’ mouths. It’s Rowan that speaks next. 

“You didn’t have to do _that_ ,” he says, scolding her lightly. “But thank you.”

“Anytime.” Aelin can feel the thousands of people watching her. Their eyes burn her skin, or maybe that’s the blush staining her cheeks. “But I do have to go. If I run over, the city will fine me for breaking curfew.”

“Of course,” Rowan says. “But Aelin?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” A beat. “Knock ‘em dead.”

Aelin smiles so hard during the following song that she’s barely able to sing it.

##  **Aelin Galathynius Halts Concert For Goodnight Call.**

It’s the banging at the door that wakes her up.

“Ace!” Aelin identifies Fenrys by his voice, but she’s willing to bet that it’s Lorcan abusing her door. It’s just a feeling, and he is usually the reason they have to pay for damages. Fen shouts, “Wake up, girl! We’ve got a legally binding contract to sign!”

Aelin grumbles and curls deeper into the bed. “I hate you.”

Her voice is too quiet for either of them to hear, but that wouldn’t stop the men from continuing their assault on Aelin’s peace and quiet. She stayed up late on the phone, talking to Rowan and assuaging his worries about interrupting her concert. Aelin was not ready to get up and do stuff.

“You’re half an hour late!” Fenrys complains. “Gods, this is what we get for letting you go anywhere without Rowan.” Someone snorts; it sounds a lot like Connall. “He’s always been your best handler.”

Lorcan barks a laugh. “His _handling_ of her makes both of them late now.”

Aelin is out of bed in a flash. She swings the door open, causing the three men to freeze in surprise. Aelin spares each of them a murderous glare. “I will kill each of you. Slowly. And I will enjoy it.”

“Have you _always_ worn so little clothing to bed?” Connall chirps from behind his brother and Lorcan. “I don’t remember that nightgown from the tour bus.” A beat. “Then again, that’s probably for the best. Rowan would have died of longing.”

“Fuck you,” Aelin spits, and the men laugh. She struggles to maintain her scowl, but a smile threatens her more and more every time Connall snorts. 

She grabs the door and begins to push it closed. The men jump into action to stop her. Fenrys flails, but Lorcan manages to catch the door with a heavy boot. Aelin hisses, “I hate all of you.”

“Now, now.” Lorcan pushes the door open with ease; Aelin relents, releasing the door in favor of grabbing her robe. “Today’s your big day, Ace. We’re here to celebrate with you.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose. “What? Am I starting kindergarten finally?”

“That would make a lot of sense, actually,” Connall chirps. 

“Yeah,” Fenrys snickers. “You and Thea can be classmates.”

Aelin gestures rudely at the twins. She reminds them, “You know, I haven’t actually signed the papers yet, right? I could still reconsider my options.”

“ _Please,_ by the gods, do not reconsider,” Dorian says as he appears in the doorway. His blue eyes are as bright as the morning sky. “The attorney fees alone have cost me a fortune. Allow me to recoup _some_ of my losses.”

“ _You_ ,” Aelin says, pointing a finger at the man. Her friend’s eyes bulge out of his face in surprise, but Aelin ignores him. “You can’t be in here—get out.”

Dorian stammers, “Why not? I’ve—”

“Boundaries!” Aelin waves him out of the room. As much as she loved Dorian, and as much as they were mutually over their past rendezvous, Aelin could only imagine how Rowan might feel about finding a scantily clad Aelin in a hotel room with Dorian. Bandmates present or not.

“B-but,” Dorian’s protests are halted by a stern look from Lorcan. The drummer never fully forgave Dorian for his involvement in Aelin’s fall from grace. Even though Aelin didn’t blame the man, that hadn’t stopped her bandmates. 

Dorian leaves with a sigh, and Aelin turns on the remaining men in her room. “Is there a reason you assholes had to beat down my door?”

“We can’t drink until after you sign,” Fenrys says around an annoyingly beautiful frown. 

Connall snorts at his brother. “You were supposed to sign…” He makes a show of checking the invisible watch on his wrist. “Right now.”

Aelin casts the man a doubtful look and checks the time on her phone. “Shit.” It’s nearly noon. “I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm after talking to Rowan.”

“Sure,” Lor says, his smile taunting, “blame Rowan.”

Aelin glares at him. “What’re _you_ even doing here?”

“Waking you up?” he asks.

Aelin rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m awake now, so you all should probably get lost.”

“But I just got comfortable!” Connall protests from where he lounges across her bed.

Aelin growls, “I need to get ready.”

“But the directions say I have to wash this off in five minutes,” Fenrys says as he exits her bathroom, wearing a face mask. The man works fast; Aelin didn’t even see Fen leave the room. “You’ll take _way_ longer than that, and I’ve already made a commitment.”

“Use Lorcan’s bathroom,” Aelin tells him, ushering the twin towards the door. Connall follows after them, muttering his own complaints. She turns towards Lorcan; Aelin threatens him, “I need to get dressed, which requires taking off my clothes.”

“Ew,” the drummer says with a grimace. He takes his leave of Aelin without further complaint, but before the door closes, Lorcan warns her, “Hurry up, Ace, or I’ll send Ellie in next. She’s way meaner.”

##  **Aelin Galathynius Announces Record Deal with Damaris Labels.**

When Aelin crashes through the door of her hotel room, she’s a madwoman on a mission, half-drunk and out of time. Aelin spent most of the day celebrating her new record deal with Dorian and her band members, and she got more than a little behind schedule. She still needed to pack for her flight to Prythian in the morning.

But tomorrow morning was a matter of hours away, and \ Aelin was going to be late for her flight.

It was worth it, Aelin decides. Every extra minute spent with her friends was gold. She didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with those assholes, despite how much she liked to complain about them. Aelin just kept reminding herself that soon enough, it will be time for her vacation. She’ll have time to spend however and with whomever she wants.

One more month. It’d go by in the blink of an eye.

A chime on her phone attracts her attention. Essar asks, **What about this listing?**

Eagerly, Aelin pulls up the link her assistant sent. She was the one who suggested that Rowan’s apartment be their home base to keep Thea comfortable and feeling safe; yet, Aelin couldn’t help but second guess herself. As the speculation grew, Aelin was becoming more and more concerned about her little family’s safety. But more importantly, their privacy.

**Not enough bedrooms** _ **,**_ she replies. Aelin wasn’t ashamed to admit it. She was picky.

Essar responds quickly, **Just how many children are you planning on having?**

Aelin chokes on her breath, caught off guard by Essar’s quick wit. Children. The thought still made her panic, even if it also made her grin like a fool. Aelin doesn’t tell Essar that, though; instead, she texts, **Well, I already have three.** She adds, **Five if we’re counting Rowan and Vaughan.**

**What about Thea?** The assistant asks smoothly, recognizing the bandmate count for what it was.

Aelin laughs to herself as she types her next response. **Thea is pretty self-sufficient,** she says. **She and Fleetfoot will move away from me any day now.** A pause. **But I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of Lor.**

As she waits, Aelin receives a notification of another text. Surprise and concern etch their way onto Aelin’s face when she catches sight of the name: Nesryn.

Aelin’s publicist texts her a lot, sending tidbits of information to Aelin on a mostly need to know basis—what’s being said about her or if there’s a particular answer Aelin wants to give reporters or just where to expect the next strategically placed onslaught of paparazzi. 

A text from Nesryn was standard. Expected even. But anyone would panic over a message that read: **Call me. ASAP.**

Aelin swallows back her nerves before dialing her publicist. Nothing good has ever come out of a _call me_ text from Nesryn. Aelin contemplates the last time she received a message as ominous as this one from the stern, intimidating woman. Her stomach sinks; it was probably around the time that Aelin skipped out on Rowan’s wedding.

“I have a question for you,” Nesryn says by way of greeting her.

Aelin’s heart races. “Hello to you, too.”

Her publicist doesn’t even acknowledge her quip, which is an even worse sign than the text. Aelin holds her breath, and Nesryn speaks, “Are you engaged?”

The singer’s pulse spikes and her palms start to sweat. “No?”

“No? Why is that a question? Is that a “No?” as in you are engaged but forgot to tell me?” Nesryn asks for clarification. She’s never been very afraid of Aelin; it’s what makes her so good at her job. Wrangling Aelin Galathynius and her image can’t be an easy job, but that’s why Nes gets paid the big bucks. 

“Or, no, as in we’ve fucking eloped already,” Nesryn continues, “but we’re not telling anyone yet?”

Aelin frowns even though Nesryn can’t see her. “Is there a third option? Option C?”

“Shit,” the publicist swears. “Did you actually get married?”

“What?” Aelin shouts, thankful she’s in a soundproof room. “What kind of question is _that_?”

“A relevant one.” A scoff. “You didn’t even invite me.”

“Nes,” Aelin sighs. “No. I did not get married,” she assures her friend, “but I’m not engaged either.” The words make her think of her conversation with Rowan the last time they were together, but that isn’t exactly Nesryn’s business. Aelin’s publicist doesn’t need to know that they’re skirting around the topic of marriage.

But she does need to know _one_ thing. “I do have something to share, though.”

“Oh?” Aelin nods before remembering that Nesryn can’t see her. 

“Rowan asked me to move in with him,” Aelin tells the other woman. “And don’t let my mother know that I’ve told you before I’ve had the chance to share it with her. Or Lys.” Aelin shivers at the thought of the pregnant woman’s tears. “If I die, you won’t get paid.”

A snort, but then Nesryn is quiet for too long. Aelin holds her breath, waiting for the delayed laughter. Maybe the other woman is just multitasking; Aelin has trouble typing and talking at the same time. Yet, Aelin suddenly knows that whatever is happening is really bad. It takes every ounce of her self restraint not to google herself. 

“Do not search yourself,” Nesryn orders. It’s as if she’s read Aelin’s very thoughts. “And keep off the news channels in your hotel room. Actually, I’d suggest going dark altogether.” A pause. “I’ll text Essie and tell her to turn off your internet again.”

“Nes,” Aelin breathes her friend’s name. She suddenly wishes she’d accepted Lorcan and Elide’s invitation to breakfast. Aelin feels like she might need someone’s company for the coming news. “What’s going on?”

“Adarlan,” Nesryn says in a hushed voice.

Aelin’s stomach falls to her feet. “What?”

“It has to be them,” the publicist says quietly, almost to herself than to Aelin. As if Nesryn has spent most of the evening piecing together the puzzle pieces on her own before calling. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

“Nes,” Aelin breathes. “You’re making me worry.”

##  **The Secret Life of Aelin Galathynius.**


	63. Chapter 63

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS: DRUGS, SEX, AND ROCK N’ ROLL.**

##  **THE DUBIOUS DATING HISTORY OF POPSTAR AELIN GALATHYNIUS.**

##  **BAD HABITS? AELIN GALATHYNIUS’S RUMOURED SUBSTANCE ABUSE.**

The next few hours of Aelin’s life pass by in a blur of phone calls, emails, and damage-control. It’s the middle of the night in Doranelle, so Aelin resists every fiber of her being telling her to call Rowan. Even if she knows that her boyfriend would want her to wake him up, Aelin knows that Rowan’s last few days have been sleep-deprived. If he hasn’t called Aelin yet, he must still be asleep, and if Rowan is still asleep, then he hasn’t seen the news.

Aelin sends a prayer to the gods that Rowan doesn’t react as badly as she has to the sudden media attack. One of them needs to have it together in the coming days, and Aelin knows it won’t be her.

“I don’t understand,” Aelin asks, scrolling furiously through her phone. The headlines range from everything to her old drug habits to her less than stellar dating record. She growls. “How does anyone know any of this shit?”

“How does anyone find out anything?” Nesryn’s voice is quiet and serious. “Someone _told_ them, Aelin. The question is who.”

Aelin pauses what she was doing, abandoning her clothes in a pile next to her empty suitcase. She needs to get ready for her flight, but Aelin’s focus was on everything but her packing. She says, “You think that someone on my team talked? That I have a leak?”

“I don’t know anything for sure, Aelin,” Nesryn says, remaining diplomatic until her very last breath, “but like you’ve said, very few people have access to this kind of information on you. You’re the most guarded extrovert I’ve ever known.”

“Thanks.” Aelin makes a face at the phone. “I think.”

When her publicist suggests canceling Aelin’s appearance the next day on _Good Evening Velaris_ , the singer-songwriter fights back, demanding that she still make the appearance and give the interview. The last thing Aelin wants is to give someone an opening to call her unprofessional. 

“Besides,” she counters, failing to tamp down her anger at the situation at hand, “if I bail on them, everyone will say that it’s because I’m hiding or something stupid. I am not going to hide from anyone; they can all kiss my fucking ass.”

Nesryn sighs. “Try not to be an instigator.”

“Me?” Aelin yelps. “I’m not the one _attacking_ someone else because they signed to a label that won’t treat them like, well—like this!”

“I don’t have actual proof that Adarlan Records is the mastermind behind this,” the publicist reminds Aelin gently. “I only said that their involvement—”

Aelin cuts her off, feeling agitated and impatient. “Who else would know about my drug history? About that time I _tripped the fuck out_ at my apartment with Dorian?” She slams her suitcase shut loudly, forcing the clothing into it by pure force. It’s the worst packing job of her life, but it’ll have to do considering the current situation.

“Literally no one knew about that night outside of my family—and the Havilliards,” Aelin continues. “And don’t try to blame Dorian, again, because while he’s done a lot of stupid shit—and I mean _a lot_ of dumb shit—he would never tell that story to anyone, much less the media.”

She can feel Nesryn’s hesitation before she says, “Would Rowan—”

“Rowan would take that day to the grave if I asked him to,” Aelin swears, cutting off the publicist. Her voice holds an edge. “Even if I never asked.”

Nesryn sighs again. “You two weren’t very friendly for a very long time, Aelin.”

“I trust him more than anyone else in the world,” Aelin tells her, “and I did back then, too, even if we weren’t on speaking terms. He would _never_ betray me like that. Ever.”

“Okay.” A long, heavy pause. “Sorry.”

Aelin resists the urge to scold Nesryn for doubting Rowan. “It’s all good.”

It’s not Nesryn’s fault that she’s seen the shit that she has in her line of work. Mother’s selling a son’s secrets for money. A spouse taking advantage of their partner’s trust in them. The glorious life of the rich and famous was fucked, but Rowan would never do something like that to anyone. But especially Aelin.

“I’ll catch up with you on the plane,” Nesryn says by way of goodbye. “Manon will meet you in Prythian, and I’ll inform the rest of the team that the interview is still on.”

“Good.” Aelin eyes her suitcase dubiously. She should probably repack as unappealing as it sounds. “Thank you for everything, Nes. Wine is on me for our next meeting.”

“The wine is always on you,” the publicist replies, a smile in her voice. Aelin snorts; the other woman isn’t wrong. Armed with the information she needs and a plan, Nesryn wishes Aelin a goodnight and hangs up. She’s off to get a handle on the situation, declining to comment to the media and ignoring requests for interviews.

Aelin releases a heavy, shaky sigh once alone with her thoughts. It suddenly doesn’t feel like that long ago that Aelin manically packed up her belongings, bought a plane ticket to Velaris, and ran away to escape all of her problems. At the time, the media was having a field day speculating reasons for the fallout between Aelin and Rowan—that Aelin hated Lyria, that they had an affair while on tour, that Rowan and Aelin secretly dated before. Ridiculous all of them, but it was no wonder that Lyria’s family felt the way they did about Aelin.

Her phone lights up, catching Aelin’s attention. A text from Cassian reads, **Drinks are on me, girl. Let me know when you land. We give those fuckers something to talk about!**

The text makes Aelin smile. It was true that she was on her way to Velaris again, but she had her friends waiting for her this time. And with Nesryn on her side, everything would work out just fine. Aelin would be okay. This would all blow over.

##  **IS AELIN GALATHYNIUS ALREADY MARRIED? SOURCES CLAIM STAR GOT MARRIED IN SECRET.**

##  **ALL WE KNOW ABOUT AELIN GALATHYNIUS AND DORIAN HAVILLIARD.**

##  **HOW THE PARTY PRINCE AND PRINCESS REALLY SPENT THEIR TIME IN NARROW’S LANDING.**

“People think I eloped with _Dorian_?” Aelin growls, scrolling through her phone. She makes a noise in her throat. “That’s ridiculous. I would never—“

“Aelin from five years ago absolutely would have married Dorian,” Lorcan says and snatches Aelin’s cellphone out of her hands, shooting her a severe and unimpressed look. Aelin may or may not have swiped her phone out of his jacket pocket when he wasn’t looking.

Lorcan continues, “And she’d probably forget by the next morning, too.”

“Um. What the fuck? You believe this shit?” Aelin hisses at her friend. She protests as the drummer pockets her phone once more, walking away to the back of the plane and shaking his head. Aelin yells after him, “Excuse me. That’s _mine_.” 

“It’s mine now,” Lor says, sinking into his chair. Elide spares him a tired smile, curling into his side to sleep away the plane ride. Aelin can tell that she won’t be getting her phone back for a while. Lorcan confirms as much, “You can have it back after we land, and the internet is disconnected.”

“You are treating me like a child,” Aelin complains. “I should be allowed to know what they’re saying about me.”

Lorcan rolls his eyes, unconvinced.

“But how much of this is really scandalous?” Essar asks, scrolling through her phone. The assistant gets to check the news on her phone, which Aelin finds incredibly unfair. “Aelin never really made it a secret that she liked to go out and party.”

“She’s right here,” Aelin interrupts. “And she’s _pissed_.”

Nesryn sighs, her voice emanating from the speakerphone in Essar’s hands. “We’re all pissed, Aelin. It’d be one thing if this news was something recent. Something new.”

“Yeah,” Aelin agrees loudly, “but you all don’t have your dirty laundry across Page Six.”

“Fuck, Ace,” Lorcan drawls from the back of the cabin. “It’s on Page One. Your name is everywhere right now. More so than usual.”

He yelps when Elide pinches his ribs. “You’re not helping, Lor.”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? This is old news.” Essar brings their attention back to her. “Aelin was photographed at Mistward or the Rift almost every night for years. If she wasn’t on tour, anyway. And there’s always been rumors about your… bad habits.”

“You can say it, you know,” Aelin snaps, irritable. “Drugs—I did drugs. _Lots_ of drugs.”

“Oh! Here’s a new one: _Aelin Galathynius and Dorian Havilliard reportedly went skinny-dipping at Narrow’s Landing_ ,” Essar reads aloud. Aelin makes a loud, unhappy sound and buries her face into her arms. 

The assistant's eyes sparkle with mirth. “Yeah, I believe that one. It’s a wonder I never had to bail you two out of jail with how you two ran around.”

“Rich white people privilege,” Lorcan mutters from his seat. Aelin peers up at him, meeting his eye and making a face. Her expression conveys what she’s thinking; Lorcan isn’t wrong about their privilege. 

The Havilliard and Galathynius names came with enough pull to get Dorian and Aelin out of just about anything, and that was before money came into the picture. Anyone could be paid off to “forget” about doing hard drugs with Doranelle’s Party Prince and his Princess. Aelin makes a face. The media didn’t even try when it came to nicknaming her relationship with Dorian. Surely they could have come up with something better and less cringey than that. 

“It’s a smear campaign,” Nesryn explains. “Adarlan is punishing you and Dorian by wrecking your reputation. They want you, and thereby Dorian, to be unsuccessful.”

“There’s nothing they can say about Dorian that is worse than what’s already out there,” Elide remarks sleepily. “So, the attention falls on you, Ae.”

“It’s fucked.” Lor crosses his arms. “Why should you take all the heat for this? That asshole gets out of everything—the twins, too.”

“It’s the boobs.” Nesryn’s sigh fills the cabin. “Women are always held to a higher standard than men—and that’s everywhere. Not just the music industry.”

“Fuck this!” Aelin smacks the table with her fist. “Fuck them! Just—fuck it.”

The other people on the plane go quiet; Aelin can feel her friends’ eyes on her, watching her and worrying. She knows that they’re just looking out for her, that it’s only because they care, but somehow, it makes everything seem worse. It makes her mad.

“Could you all stop looking at me?” she snaps. “I’m fucking _fine_.”

Though nobody says otherwise, Aelin can feel their disagreement in the air. They’re not wrong; Aelin is not fine. Not at all.

##  **AEDION ASHRYVER REFUTES CLAIMS THAT AELIN GALATHYNIUS ELOPED WITH DORIAN HAVILLIARD.** _ **I THINK I WOULD KNOW.**_

##  **IS AELIN GALATHYNIUS ADDICTED TO DRUGS? STORIES EMERGE OF THE STARS PARTYING HABITS.**

##  **AMIDST CONTROVERSY, AELIN GALATHYNIUS SNEAKS INTO PRYTHIAN PENTHOUSE, HIDES UNDER BLANKET.**

“H-hello?” Aelin mumbles into her phone. She doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor does she remember regaining custody of her cell. Essar must have worked her evil magic and returned it to her when she wasn’t looking.

Rowan’s voice is a balm to her soul. “Aelin?”

“Rowan?” Aelin blinks, checks the caller ID. It is him. Gods, it feels like ages since the last time they spoke. Though it’s been barely more than 24 hours. “Hey,” she says weakly. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“Baby,” he breathes the pet name softly. His relief is palpable. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’ve heard the news. How are you doing?”

Aelin sighs loudly. She’s not awake enough to answer a loaded question like that. Rowan is quiet on the other end of the call, waiting for her to formulate her answer. At last, she tells him, “I just want to crawl under a rock and die.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Rowan’s voice is soft. “We knew the shitstorm was coming, but I didn’t expect this.”

“None of us did,” Aelin replies, her voice sounding miserable. “I should’ve known that that bastard wasn’t going to just roll over and let me live my life.”

“Is that who’s doing this?” Rowan growls softly under his breath. “I just want to go give that son of a bitch a piece of my mind.”

Aelin groans. “Don’t bother, Rowan. He’s not worth it, and we both know it’ll only cause more trouble. Besides, I can’t prove it’s him, but if I can…” She pauses, knowing she’s about to contradict herself. “Shit is going down.”

Rowan huffs in agreement. “Fine.”

“But what about you two?” Aelin asks, sitting up and looking around. She’s in the living room of her rental in Velaris; Aelin must’ve passed out on the couch. Aelin’s found that without the drinking and drugs as an escape, she usually just falls asleep. An odd but effective coping method. “How is everything in Doranelle?”

“The usual shitshow.” Rowan chuckles. “But I was pretty fucking confused when a reporter asked me how I felt about finding out you were married.”

Aelin sucks in a breath. “They did not.”

“I was not the best version of myself at that moment,” Rowan says, his voice wry. “So, tell Nesryn that I’m sorry about that.” Another laugh. “Thea made me pay up, so there’ll be plenty of chicken nuggets when you get home.”

It feels wrong for Aelin to laugh with everything going on in her life, but Rowan’s words make her laugh anyway. She can’t resist trying to pull up the internet, trying to find an article or video of whatever her boyfriend did to warrant an apology to her publicist. 

The browser loads an error message, and Aelin frowns. So, Essar did turn off the mobile internet on her phone. Sneak assistant.

“Everything good?” Rowan asks when Aelin grumbles. 

She flushes in the dim light of her apartment. “Essar disconnected me.”

Rowan sighs. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best, though.”

Even as the irritation flares, Aelin knows he’s right. They’ve discussed her unhealthy relationship with social media and the gossip columns. She depends too heavily on what everyone thinks of her, what they’re saying about her. It’s not good for her, but Aelin just can’t help herself.

“I have something for you to look at.” Aelin changes the subject with ease. 

“Okay.” Rowan’s voice is rife with mistrust. 

Aelin giggles at her boyfriend. “Remember that I’m, like, disgustingly wealthy and that you’re not required to pay for _anything_ at all.” A beat. “I just want your opinion.”

“I’ve never been more scared in my life,” Rowan replies, “and I’ve jumped down the Falls.”

The memory makes Aelin smile. “It’s not my fault that you can’t say no to a bet, Buzzard.”

“Aelin,” Rowan whines. “Put me out of my misery, please.”

“Okay!” Aelin pulls up a text from Essar and forwards it to Rowan. It contains a link to a real estate listing that Aelin can no longer open with her mobile internet disconnection, but it’s a good one. Better than good. Aelin might be in love with a house.

Rowan hums thoughtfully. Aelin finds not being able to see his expression unbearable as she waits for her boyfriend to say something. Say anything. 

“I know it’s kind of far away from the city,” Aelin says, beginning to ramble to fill the silence, “but you and I do so much of our work remotely anyway that I don’t think it matters too much. Besides, there’s tons of room for people to come over—the guys, my family, Sellene.”

Aelin frowns at the mention of Rowan’s cousin. It’s been ages since the last time Aelin saw Sellene, mostly out of an utter determination to avoid her during the period that Aelin and Rowan weren’t friends. Aelin makes a note to ask Rowan about her. That is if he ever speaks.

“Obviously, there’s a shit ton more land than you and I could ever need, especially for somewhere we’d only live part-time, but Thea did say she wanted a pony. _A real one this time_.” Aelin laughs at the thought of the clever-tongued little girl. “And Fleetfoot needs more space to run around; she’s way too big for the city. Poor dog.

“Um. It’s far enough away from anything that no one—as in my parents—will show up unannounced,” Aelin continues. “It needs paparazzi-proofing, but I’m kind of a pro at that these days.” Her face heats up at the thought of the paparazzi swarming outside her penthouse. It didn’t take long for them to figure out where in Velaris she was.

Aelin clears her throat and keeps going, “The study looks like the makings of a good recording booth for you, and I—”

“Baby,” Rowan stops her gently, “that’s… it’s a lot of money.”

“Kind of,” Aelin agrees, “but it’s more than affordable for me.”

Rowan whistles. “I knew you were loaded, Ace, but maybe I didn’t realize just how loaded.”

“Will you come with me?” Aelin asks quietly. “When I go to see it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rowan says, “but I’m not making any decisions. This is all you, baby. It’s your money.”

Aelin laughs at him. That sounds like the Rowan she knows and loves, and even if he’s just sworn to remain neutral, Aelin knows that she can weasel an opinion or two out of him. Rowan’s not capable of keeping completely quiet on a decision like this. 

##  **CAMP GALATHYNIUS REMAINS QUIET ON THE MATTER OF AELIN’S SUBSTANCE ABUSE.**

##  **DORIAN HAVILLIARD ADDRESSES MARRIAGE RUMOURS DURING INTERVIEW, SAYS,** _ **I WOULD NEVER BE SO LUCKY.**_

##  **AFTER HIDING AWAY, AELIN GALATHYNIUS GRACES THE PUBLIC WITH AN APPEARANCE ON** _ **GOOD EVENING VELARIS**_ **.**

Aelin has never done well in interviews. Ever. At least back in The Cadre days, she had her band at her back, for better or for worse. The guys were just as quick to come to her defense against a shady interview question as they were to mock her endlessly for her in front of a camera persona. As a solo artist, Aelin had to perfect standing up for herself without looking like a drama queen or being called a diva. 

However, being a well-known pop star does have its perks. To score an interview with Aelin Galathynius, questions had to be approved, topics pre-disclosed, and Aelin always got a final say on who got to interview her.

“There’s been a lot of chit chat about the summer you spent here in Velaris a few years ago,” Aelin’s current interviewer says. It’s a segue that Aelin both was and wasn’t expecting, and her guard rises immediately. It’s an effort to maintain the oblivious smile on Aelin’s face, aimed at the woman sitting across from her.

Giada was her name. She continues, “Care to comment on what people are saying?”

Aelin spares a glance at Essar’s stern frown, and then she drags her gaze back to the interviewer’s brown eyes. “Not anything that I can say in front of a camera.”

The woman breaks into fake, too-high laughter, but Aelin feels little victory over the careful sidestep. Nesryn warned her that this interview might be a bad idea, but she was stubborn. Aelin wasn’t going to let them get anything out of her that she didn’t want. 

Giada smiles. “Some people speculate that your relationship with Rhysand Knight was nothing more than a PR stunt to distract from…” The woman trails off, reconsidering her train of thought when Aelin raises a brow in challenge. “...and to elevate yourself.”

“Rhys and I had a relationship based on friendship,” Aelin says diplomatically. The interviewer isn’t wrong, but she can’t let any of the people in this room know that. Rhys and Aelin used one another to distract the media from their horrendous personal problems. “We’re still very good friends today; we’re having breakfast tomorrow.”

Giada looks surprised. “Exes that still catch up over breakfast? I have to say I’m surprised by that.” 

“I have been told that my breakups are far too healthy,” Aelin quips, thinking of Rowan’s comments about her “very attractive friends.” They both know that while he was making a lighthearted comment at the time, Rowan wishes fewer of those friends were also exes.

“On the topic of breakups,” the interviewer says around a sickly sweet smile, “rumor has it that you’re dating a certain lead guitarist?”

“Elide?” Aelin makes a face, trying to play off the invasive question. Her appearance on _Good Evening Velaris_ was scheduled eons ago, carefully planned to fit into her rigorous touring schedule. Little did Aelin and her team know that her whole fucking world would blow up days beforehand.

Giada laughs at her joke, but the sound is as fake as the rest of her persona. “No. Your former bandmate, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Essar chimes in lightning fast. Aelin glances at her, noting the menacing scowl on the permanently kind assistant’s face. It was telling; Essar never lost her cool with people, but Aelin’s team was feeling a little protective with everything going on at the moment. 

Essar explains in a calm tone, “That’s not an approved question. She’s fishing.”

“Oh, I’m just curious.” The interviewer's smile has never looked more malicious. “We’re friends, after all!”

“No. We’re not,” Aelin snaps. Her voice is harsh, cutting, and the mood in the room grows tense. This is probably why Nesryn tried to cancel the interview one more time while Aelin was mid-flight, but Aelin insisted that she still go. Skipping an interview planned so far in advance would only add fuel to the fire that was the media shitstorm she was in.

“We’re strangers.” Aelin holds the interviewer's gaze, relishing in the way the other woman swallows nervously. “At best, I could be considered your client, except that I’m not actually getting any sort of benefit out of sitting down with you.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Giada works quickly to save the conversation. Aelin can see the panic in her eyes. “You’re here for the publicity.” 

Aelin sends the woman a look. “To talk about my record-breaking tour—not my personal life.” Aelin leans back in the chair and crosses her arms, losing all of the poise she’d worked so hard to maintain. If the world wanted to believe she was some bitchy pop star, maybe Aelin should just let them.

_Fire Breathing Bitch Queen_ Lorcan liked to call her whenever he and Aelin had it out. It was a pretty solid nickname, even if it was meant to piss her off in the heat of the moment.

Essar sucks in a breath, concerned by the turn of events, and Aelin leans forward in her chair, smiles tauntingly. “Let’s turn the tables then. Who are _you_ dating?”

The woman gapes at her, struggling to come up with an answer. She’s taken aback by the personal question, as she should be; it’s pretty fucking invasive. Giada says, “We’re not here to talk about _me_.”

“Well, we’re not here to talk about _me_ either.” Aelin can see Essar’s supportive and nervous smile through the blinding studio lights. “Next question—”

“Who’s interview is this?” Giada says, aiming for lightheartedness and laughing uncomfortably. Aelin can tell that this woman has just marked her as “difficult and uncooperative.” She’ll probably leak her experience to another outlet, maybe a magazine, and have them tell the world that Aelin is a Diva Extraordinaire. 

Fuck them.

“Pretty sure that it’s my interview,” Aelin replies sharply. “After all, everyone will be tuning in for my name alone.” The singer tilts her head, feeling like a predator. “Second question: Why do you feel it’s appropriate to ask me—a stranger, as we’ve agreed—such personal questions? I just asked you—someone who’s a stranger to me—a personal question and, total offense, you choked.”

Giada stammers, “I-I—”

“Would you walk up to a stranger on the street and ask them who they were dating? If they thought that person was a good kisser?” Aelin asks, feeling emboldened by the other woman’s nerves. A voice far away in her mind tells Aelin that she’s being cruel, but now that she’s started, Aelin just can’t stop. 

“Or, how about one of your coworkers? One whose name you know, but you have no sort of relationship with?” Aelin pauses for the drama. The interviewer gapes. “For all purposes, they’re a stranger to you, too. Would you ask them if they were sleeping with XYZ?”

Someone off-camera whispers into their headset, giving Giada directions through her earpiece, but the room is so quiet that Aelin can hear what they say. They’re directions to wrangle the situation, to reel Aelin back in and get her under control. They’re all idiots if they think she’s controllable. 

“That’s right!” Aelin chirps brightly; her smile falls away quickly. “You wouldn’t, and you know why?”

The woman makes a strangled sound; Aelin shifts her weight to the front of the chair, holding out her hand to the interviewer. “Because they’re a stranger, Giada. Have a good day.”

She stares at Aelin’s in surprise. “We’re not done. I-I have more questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” Aelin agrees, “but I _am_ done.” She gives the director a look. “Make sure you keep that part in, or I’ll make it known that you took it out.” She stands up, brushes invisible lint away from her outfit. Well, at least she looked cute while wrecking Nesryn’s day. 

“Thank you for your time,” Aelin tells the room, sounding an awful lot like the stunned woman still sitting in her chair. Aelin wants to feel bad, but she just can’t summon the emotions. “It’s been... a real joy.”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS STORMS OUT OF** _ **GOOD EVENING, VELARIS**_ **INTERVIEW.**

##  **OLD HABITS DIE HARD. AFTER CHAOTIC INTERVIEW, AELIN GALATHYNIUS SPOTTED AT RITA’S WITH VELARIS NATIVE CASSIAN GUERRA.**

##  **CASSIAN GUERRA THREATENS PHOTOGRAPHER WHILE LEAVING RITA’S.** _ **JUST LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE, WILL YOU?**_

“Now, I know that look,” Rhysand Knight says from the other side of the table. Aelin makes an ugly face at him, but the actor merely smiles warmly as he reaches across the table and takes Aelin’s phone from her hands. She makes a sound of protest, but the man ignores her. 

“I’m also familiar with the protocol.” Rhys’s eyes crinkle as he reminds her. “I’ve been through these fun times with you before.” He turns the cellphone over in his hands, thoughtfully. “How’d you get this back anyway? Don’t the powers that be usually confiscate your phone during times of crisis?”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “The internet was off, but I turned it back on. So I could video chat with Rowan and Thea.”

“Of course, you did,” Rhys coos. He clicks his tongue. “You know that assistant of yours scares me. I think it’s the too-sweet smile. It feels like it’s the last thing I’d see as she stabbed me with a letter opener.”

Aelin snorts. “Essar has that effect on a lot of people.”

Rhys laughs at that. “So, do you want—” He pauses mid-sentence as the waitress reappears, refilling their drinks. The actor flashes the lady a brilliant smile, causing her to flush madly and run away. Aelin rolls her eyes at her friend. The shameless flirt.

He turns his violet eyes on her next. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Um.” Aelin eyes Rhys from across the table. He raises a handsome brow in question. He told Aelin once that she reminded him endlessly of Cassian and that the dumbest thing he ever did was introduce them. 

“I did something stupid,” she finishes. 

Rhys sets down his fork. They’re having brunch and pretending not to notice the plethora of people watching them eat. Aelin remembers how they used to blow up Velaris with their breakfast “dates.” Though it was their late nights that always ended up in the papers. Aelin’s pretty confident that her night at the bar with Cassian made this morning’s headlines. It was almost like old times.

“You know,” Rhys sighs, “I hate it when you say that. Define stupid. Is it Cassian Stupid? Did you get into a bar brawl or something?”

“Once or twice,” Aelin smirks. “But not last night.”

“Then is it like Feyre?” Rhys smiles fondly at the mention of the actress. The spark from the gold band around his finger catches Aelin’s eye, and not for the first time, she’s filled with a sense of longing. She wishes Rowan were here.

“Did you wear two different shoes to work?” he continues, not noticing where Aelin’s attention has gone. Rhys grins. “It’s a wonder that that woman can dress herself.”

Aelin barks a laugh. “No, it’s Aelin Bad.”

Rhys makes a grave face. His smile soon ruins the effect. “Then we’re in a lot of trouble?”

“Nah. Well. Maybe.” Aelin smiles guiltily. “I may have been a bit of a bitch in my interview.”

“Oh.” Rhys thinks it over, and then he shrugs. “You’ve come back from worse, yeah?” He makes another face, this one more of a grimace. “It’s probably not ideal for you with everything else going on, but—“ Rhys waves it off. “We’re not going to let some mean girl ruin our _brunch,_ are we?”

Aelin’s lips threaten to smile. This was an old ritual of theirs. They’d go for breakfast, and whoever was less sad would talk the other out of their foul mood. Rhys's violet gaze holds hers, a smile of his own dancing on his lips; he always was better at the pep talks than Aelin.

He looks victorious when she gives in, smiling before saying, “No.”

“That’s right!” He cheers. “Because I have a mimosa! And you have—“

“Green tea.” Aelin sighs, and Rhys grimaces. “It tastes like dirt, but Velaris has a way of ruining my voice.” She makes a face. “It’s clearly a conspiracy to make me look even worse.”

“Yes, I’m sure that has nothing to do with the way you and Cassian tore up Rita’s last night.” Rhys’s shoulders tremble with the desire to laugh at her expense. Laughter escapes him when Aelin’s napkin hits him in the face. He says, “I’ve missed having you around to make me look good.”

“Asshole,” she says, tossing a spoon at his face. Rhys howls with laughter, uncharacteristically open with his feelings. He’s grown up, become more comfortable with himself; Aelin has to admit that she’s a little jealous.

The pair falls into silence as their food arrives. With Rhys as company, Aelin manages to forget about the drama for a bit and enjoy herself. As always, the food in Velaris is fantastic. It’s almost enough to motivate Aelin to relocate, but something tells her that Rowan would be a little iffy about moving to a different country.

They’re waiting for the bill when Aelin asks, “How offended would you be if I told my boyfriend that we had bad sex, and you cried?”

“So offended.” Rhys takes a sip from his drink, not missing a beat. “Utterly outraged, even,” he deadpans. Aelin recognizes the flair for drama for what it is and rolls her eyes at him. 

Rhys smirks. “It was _terrible_ sex. Awful.”

“Rude!” Aelin kicks him under the table. 

Her friend barks a laugh, attracting the attention of everyone in the near vicinity. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes, not sounding at all sorry, ”but are you going to try to deny it?”

“No, but you don’t have to be so brutal about it.” Aelin neglects to mention that she also called Rhys the worst sex of her life. “So. Are you mad?”

“Depends,” Rhys says with a smirk, “are _you_ mad if I told my wife?”

Aelin shakes her head no, and Rhys grins. “She laughed so hard that she cried when I told her. Now _that_ was brutal.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Aelin says somberly. “You can’t trust them with anything. They’re always so _mean_.”

“But they have the best laughs,” Rhys adds, signing for his credit card. His face is soft and silly, and Aelin knows that her expression matches. 

“That they do.” Aelin lifts her coffee cup, tapping the mug against the dainty glass in Rhys’s hands. “That they do.”

##  **REUNITED WITH OLD FLAME? AELIN GALATHYNIUS SEEN SHOPPING IN THE PALACE WITH RHYSAND KNIGHT.**

##  **RHYSAND KNIGHT SHARES PICTURE WITH AELIN GALATHYNIUS ON SOCIAL MEDIA.**

##  **ROWAN WHITETHORN WAS “CAUGHT OFF GUARD” BY NEWS THAT GIRLFRIEND, AELIN GALATHYNIUS, WAS SPENDING TIME WITH EX-BOYFRIEND, RHYSAND KNIGHT.**


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s that time again. A shorter update to get you guys through the week. The editing is minimal, but I’m on a time crunch here. I figured it was better than leaving you all hanging.

##  **ROWAN WHITETHORN AND AELIN GALATHYNIUS ON THE OUTS.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS IN TEARS, FIGHTING NONSTOP WITH ROWAN WHITETHORN.**

##  **DID RHYSAND KNIGHT COME BETWEEN AELIN GALATHYNIUS AND ROWAN WHITETHORN?**

“Your dog is getting fat,” is what Rowan tells her the next time they speak. His voice is rife with its usual good-natured grumpiness, and Aelin laughs at her boyfriend, smiling into the darkness of her bedroom. He continues, “It’s all the biscuits. We need to cut her off—before it’s too late.”

Aelin barks a laugh, but it cuts off with a cough. She groans. “Gods, I hate the weather here.”

“The coastal life isn’t for you?” Rowan teases. “With the postcard view of the mountains?”

“Shut up,” Aelin hisses, trying to resist another cough. “And don’t call my dog fat. She’s not fat.” Rowan laughs at the defensive tone of her voice. Aelin frowns even though she knows he can’t see her via the phone call. 

“If we need to cut anybody off, it’s Thea Whitethorn,” Aelin’s voice is sly. Just like her smile. “That girl has a real cookie problem.”

Rowan huffs. The little girl in question chatters away in the background of the call, and Aelin’s heart squeezes at the sound of Fleetfoot’s excited yips. Fuck, she misses them. All three of them. Aelin’s heart fills with homesickness; somedays, the phone calls just weren’t enough.

“I’m a single—hang on,” Rowans says. He barks something in the background, and Aelin thinks it sounds a lot like, _Thea! No jumping on the couch, please._

Aelin smiles as the father-daughter duo goes back and forth. Rowan’s voice returns to the phone, sounding tired and a little resigned. “I’m a single dad, Aelin; I need all the help I can get.” A sigh. “The cookies stay, and I’ll replace the couch when my daughter inevitably breaks it.”

Aelin laughs brightly. Her boyfriend sounds so serious about his cookie-bribing ways. “Don’t worry about the couch, baby. Lorcan got drunk and broke the last one.”

“He, what?” Rowan laughs incredulously. “How did he manage that?”

“It’s Lorcan. He ruins everything.” Aelin laughs. “By the way, you do know that Thea sneaks her snacks to Fleetfoot, right?” Aelin tells Rowan around a smile. “So, if you think about it, it’s _your_ fault that my dog is fat.”

“I thought you said that she wasn’t fat,” Rowan retorts, leaving Aelin without a comeback. She can feel his arrogant smile through the telephone, even if she can’t see him.

Aelin growls, “I don’t like you.”

“So the rumors are true!” Rowan cries. “You _are_ leaving me.”

“Fuck you.” Aelin cackles until she coughs. At this point, finding humor in the horrible situation is the only thing keeping her sane. “That’s not even funny,” she gasps out between laughs.

“I’m happy you think so.” Rowan laughs heartily at his joke. “Because your kitchen is so much nicer than mine, and I have zero plans to give it up.”

“I’ve always said that’s my best feature,” Aelin’s tone is dry. “My unused, understocked kitchen.”

Rowan’s chuckle tickles down Aelin’s spine. “You wouldn’t even recognize the place now,” he coos. “I bet you’ve never seen so much food in this pantry.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Aelin purrs. Rowan makes a horrified choking noise, and Aelin breaks into laughter. It’s just so easy to mess with her boyfriend.

“Aelin,” Rowan whines, “my daughter is right _there_.”

“I’m not sorry.” Aelin laughs. “It’s worth it to see you squirm.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. Aelin curls up on the couch and turns on the tv, watching a cooking show while pretending not to be stressed while she listens to Rowan hang out with Thea and heckle the dog he pretends to hate. 

Despite not talking, Aelin finds that it helps her a lot to have Rowan there with her, even if he wasn’t really _there_ with her.

“I’m sorry you had to move into the townhouse. I…” Aelin trails off, soaking in her guilt. She hates to break the silence, but it’s something that’s been bothering her. She swears softly. “I’m just so sorry to turn your life upside down like this.”

“It’s no matter, baby,” Rowan says softly. The pet name soothes her soul a bit. “Thea thinks we're having a sleepover with Fleetfoot. I found them this morning in that excessively big dog bed by the piano.” A beat. “I’m fairly certain I tucked Thea into bed last night in her room. I know I didn’t have that much whisky.”

Aelin laughs. “Maybe the tabloids should be speculating on your drinking habits instead.”

Rowan grunts his displeasure. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. How are you?”

Aelin appreciates that Rowan never uses the phrase, _Are you okay?_ He knows that she isn’t, but he also doesn’t expect her to be. Even better, Rowan accepts her honest answer; he’d be upset if she lied. “Shitty,” she tells him, “but I’m… coping.”

“Do you…” Rowan trails off, and Aelin waits for him to find the right words. He sighs heavily. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

Aelin knows without asking that Rowan wanted to say the dreaded words, _Do you wanna talk about it_? He’s tried, more than once, to ask just that, but the question ended in Aelin’s temper and impatience getting the best of her. She’s happy he changed his mind; Aelin didn’t want to take out her problems on her boyfriend anymore.

“Yes,” she promises. “Which is why I need to let you go,” Aelin adds softly, “Yrene and I have a virtual session in like fifteen minutes, and I feel like wearing my dog-patterned onesie might send the wrong message to my therapist.”

Rowan’s chuckle is lighter. Marginally. “I think you look adorable in those pajamas.”

“Gee. Thanks.” Aelin doesn’t bother fighting her smile. “I love you, Rowan.”

He doesn’t hesitate to say, “I love you, too, Aelin.”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS PHOTOGRAPHED LEAVING VELARIS APARTMENT, FLIPS OFF PAPARAZZI.**

##  **_DEAR SOCIETY_** **SINGER, AELIN GALATHYNIUS, POSTS SELFIE WITH LEAD GUITARIST ELIDE LOCHAN, CONTINUES TO IGNORE ALLEGATIONS OF CHEATING.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS SEEN AT TENSE LUNCH WITH FEYRE ARCHERON AMIDST SPECULATION OF AN AFFAIR.**

Aelin was getting sick. She’d assumed at lunch that the trouble with her voice stemmed from the climate change. Going from the warm air of Antica to the mountains of Velaris has always done a number on her, but as the day passed, Aelin realized something was wrong.

The biggest red flag was when Aelin tried to chew out the paparazzi harassing her and Feyre at lunch. Her speaking voice had broken, and she’d spent the majority of her time chatting with Feyre, clearing her throat and downing tea.

“Should you sing tomorrow?” Rowan asks, his voice soft with concern. 

Aelin drags her gaze away from the men and women working diligently to put her show together in time for the performance tomorrow. On the phone screen, Rowan’s green eyes glow with worry, searching her face for any other signs of illness.

She sighs. “There isn’t exactly anyone else here to do it for me.” She watches the crew shuffle around as they unload huge black boxes like the one she was sitting on. Aelin was probably in the way. “And I _really_ don’t want to cancel this show.”

Thinking about the disappointment a canceled show would cause only made Aelin feel even sicker. People made plans to come to these shows, bought plane tickets, and booked hotel rooms. They emptied savings. She couldn’t just _cancel_. 

“Baby.” Rowan must see the distress in her face. “Don’t beat yourself up. They’ll understand.”

Aelin struggles to blink back the tears. “I don’t want to cancel, Rowan.” A sniffle. “I don’t want—I can’t let anyone down.”

Rowan sighs. He knows better than anyone how hard Aelin struggles with this kind of thing. Another lifetime ago, Aelin’s voice gave out on her in the middle of a Cadre show; it was so bad that she couldn’t speak anymore. Rowan was left to finish off their set, and Aelin cried about it for days. 

“What does Yrene say?” Rowan asks of the doctor. 

Aelin frowns. “To take care of myself. And to listen to the vocal coach.”

Rowan nods seriously. “And she says?”

“Petrah said that I could wait—“

A warm arm falls over her shoulders. Gavriel gives her a squeeze as he says, “She thinks we should cancel and that Aelin needs to rest her voice.” Aelin glares at her uncle for outing her. Rowan’s gaze burns her cheeks through the camera. “But Petrah agreed to give Aelin until tomorrow’s warm-ups to rest her voice and reevaluate.”

“Aelin,” Rowan begins, but she cuts him off, feeling outnumbered, “ _I’m going to be fine.”_ Nothing is more upsetting to Aelin than the way her voice cracks around the words. “I refuse to cancel one of the _only_ two shows in Prythian.”

Both men stay incredibly silent for far too long. Gavriel and Rowan have years of experience under their belt dealing with Aelin’s incredibly stubbornness; they know that fighting with her is no use. At last, Gavriel reacts, releasing a heavy, long-suffering sigh, and Rowan cracks a grin at the two of them. His sharp eyes focus on Aelin, making her sit up straight.

“Aelin,” Rowan says her name in such a way that Gavriel takes it as his cue to leave. Her uncle gives Aelin’s shoulder another squeeze and then jets off for another group of people, giving them their privacy. Rowan waits for him to leave. 

“What?” Aelin snaps.

Rowan’s jaw tenses, but it relaxes when Aelin starts to cough. His voice is softer the next time he speaks. “Baby, I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?” He pauses. “It’s your voice we’re talking about here—your _singing_.”

Aelin sniffles, feeling dejected. “Yeah.”

“Just keep in mind that not skipping this _one_ show could keep you from missing _all of them._ ” Rowan’s gaze is too heavy for Aelin to bear, and suddenly, she wishes she hadn’t video called him. 

She looks away. “Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a long while until Rowan whispers, “I love you.”

He waits until Aelin looks to him to say more, sparing her a soft, understanding smile. “And so, I’m going to sit here with you, and we’re not going to talk anymore. You need to rest your voice.”

“Thanks,” she croaks. 

Rowan frowns disapprovingly. “No more talking.”

Aelin mimes zipping her lips shut, and Rowan chuckles. They stay on the phone together for a little while, sharing smiles. Aelin listens to Rowan play around on the guitar, and then she carries the phone around, bringing Rowan to different people to chat with.

All too soon, it’s time for Rowan to head off to a meeting. “I’ll check in as soon as I get out, okay?”

“Okay.” Aelin ignores the disapproving look he gives her as she breaks the no speaking rule. “I love you.”

Rowan’s eyes soften. “I love you, too.”

“Alright, listen up,” Lorcan says to the group as Aelin joins them. “Aelin officially can’t speak, so now is your chance to make fun of her without fear of retribution—” The drummer yelps when Aelin punches his arm, lightning-fast and as hard as possible. 

“Fuck, Ace!” Lorcan just manages to catch the next punch. “That _hurt_.”

Elide sighs at them. “Yeah, that seems about right.”

Aelin flips the drummer off, wishing that her glare was strong enough to set the man aflame; the rest of the room laughs at their sibling-like antics. A Lorcan and Aelin squabble was a staple of any of their tours; it provided a lot of entertainment. 

“Aelin!” Essar calls from the other side of the room, appearing before Aelin could decide to take her lousy week out on Lorcan and hit him again. “The car is here. We’ll grab your prescription on the way to the apartment, and then you’ll sleep until the show.”

Lorcan barks a laugh, and he shoots Aelin a look. “They’re knocking you out to make sure you don’t talk, huh?”

The blonde makes an obscene gesture in the drummer’s direction, and the rest of the room laughs. Aelin huffs. This isn’t nearly as funny as they’re all making it out to be; Aelin might have to cancel tomorrow’s show. What if she ends up letting everyone down?

No. She won’t. Aelin is determined not to.

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS RESCHEDULES PRYTHIAN DATES DUE TO ILLNESS.**

##  **LAST MINUTE CANCELLATION LEAVES THOUSANDS OF AELIN GALATHYNIUS FANS WITH NOWHERE TO GO.**

##  **CASSIAN GUERRA DELIVERS PIZZA TO AELIN GALATHYNIUS FANS STRANDED BY CANCELLED CONCERT.**

“Oh, baby.” Rowan’s voice is gentle and apologetic. “I’m so sorry that this happened.” 

On the small screen of the phone, the expression on his face tells Aelin that it pains him not to be unable to do anything to help her. That’s Rowan’s way, fixing a problem that’s been presented; there’s nothing worse for him than being able to do nothing.

Rowan’s frown deepens when Aelin sniffs, the sound loud and unattractive. She waited for her tears to dry before calling Rowan to tell him the news, but upon repeating everything, Aelin’s tear ducts had betrayed her. She’d cried through the whole thing.

“I wish I were there with you right now,” Rowan says. He releases a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, I hate this.”

Aelin sniffles. “Me, too.”

The look on Rowan’s face tells Aelin everything she needs to know. It pains her boyfriend not to be able to touch her right now, not to be able to hold her and give her comfort while she’s upset. Aelin rubs at her eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry, Rowan.”

“For what?”

“I don’t like that this makes you feel bad, too.” Aelin meets his eye. “It’s not your fault I got sick.”

Rowan huffs. “And it’s not yours either.”

“This is bullshit,” Aelin complains. They both abandoned the vocal rest rule when Aelin started crying on the phone. Rowan couldn’t bring himself to scold his crying girlfriend. Aelin hisses, “And now everyone is going to make up wild fucking theories about me, and I—”

“Aelin.” Rowan’s voice is firm, but there’s an edge to it. “Fuck what they say.”

“You’re only saying that because it’s not about you,” Aelin snaps. She feels guilty for losing her temper with him immediately, but Rowan speaks before she can apologize. 

“ _Did Rowan Whitethorn Cheat on His Wife?_ ” he quotes the headline in a flat voice. “They don’t even bother using Lyria’s fucking name. They have probably forgotten it.” A beat while Rowan recovers his quiet rage, and then, “ _Caught Red Handed! Rowan Whitethorn Meets with_ Other _Woman, Aelin Galathynius, Weeks Before Wife’s Death._ ”

Aelin’s skin turns cold. “What?”

“There’s a picture beneath of you and I sitting together before your WMA performance,” Rowan says, pretending not to have heard her. “I think that one is my favorite because what was actually happening was that I was reaching out to you, and you gave me the cold shoulder.”

Despite the time that has passed, Aelin still feels guilty about that. How was she supposed to know what Rowan had been going through? Probably by letting him speak to her.

Mercilessly, Rowan continues, “ _The Real Reason Behind Rowan Whitethorn’s Divorce—Aelin Galathynius._ ” He sighs heavily. “That day, Thea came home from the daycare and asked me what cheating was.” He pauses. “I pulled her from school the next day.”

“Rowan, why didn’t you say something?” Aelin cries. The result was a severe cough that made her eyes water. “When was this?”

“The day before yesterday, and I didn’t tell you because you were unconscious,” Rowan says. A wry smile plays at his lips, and those green eyes Aelin likes so much sparkle with amusement. They make her heart flip flop in her chest.

He sighs. “I was going to tell you today, but… Other things were going on.”

Fresh tears burn Aelin’s eyes. “Fuck them.” She hates how pathetic the dismissal sounds, weak and sick. “I’m so sorry.”

Rowan’s lips turn downward. “It’s not your fault, Aelin. Just come home already, so I can hold you.”

Aelin gives a weak nod. “I have a flight scheduled for tomorrow,” she tells him. “That’s part of why I called.” She makes a subtle attempt to hide her need to cough by clearing her throat, but she knows that Rowan sees right through it. 

“There’s no point in me being trapped in this place.” Aelin shrugs lamely, trying to play it off. “I might as well sleep in my own damn bed.”

“It feels pretty shitty to say,” Rowan sighs, “but I’m looking forward to seeing you again so soon.”

Aelin’s smile is painful. “Yeah.” She thinks it over. “But maybe I should stay at the apartment for a few days. Until whatever this is I picked up goes away. I don’t want to get you or Thea sick.”

Rowan makes a face that tells her he disagrees. Aelin suspected her boyfriend would have objections to that idea, but she didn’t want to bring home whatever it was that she’d picked up. She’d be gone from Doranelle in less than a week. If Aelin got Rowan, or worse Thea, sick, there’d be no returning the favor.

“Let me know when you land, okay?” Rowan surprises Aelin with his easy acceptance of defeat. She guesses that he knows as well as she does that there’s no point in arguing; they’d go back and forth all day. But in the end, Aelin would do whatever she wanted.

He looks thoughtful. “I’ll come to check on you, okay?”

Aelin nods, excited by the thought of getting to see Rowan tomorrow. To get to hug him. “Sounds good.”

“Now go get some sleep.” Rowan’s eyes crinkle with affection as Aelin fights off a big yawn. “But don’t forget to take your medicine first.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She grins. 

Rowan rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” A short pause. “I love you.”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS FLEES VELARIS AFTER CANCELLED SHOWS.**

##  **ADARLAN RECORDS SHARES MESSAGE IN RESPONSE TO THE RESCHEDULING OF AELIN GALATHYNIUS CONCERT, BLAMES TO “EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES.”**

##  **DATES OF RESCHEDULED SHOWS TO BE ANNOUNCED...**


	65. Chapter 65

##  **WHERE IS AELIN GALATHYNIUS?**

##  **_DEAR SOCIETY_** **SINGER RUNS AWAY FROM VELARIS AFTER CANCELLING SHOWS.**

##  **THE MEDIA CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF AELIN GALATHYNIUS—FOR BETTER OR WORSE.**

The trip home to Doranelle is quiet and without fuss. Aelin avoids crossing paths with anyone that may or may not recognize her, sneaking off the plane and slipping into her uptown apartment in the dead of night. She’s never been more thankful for her private entrance. It’s a relief to be able to escape the photographers and fans waiting at the front door.

Aelin forces the guilt nagging her to the side. The chaos waiting on the street below—people just praying for a chance to see the one and only Aelin Galathynius—is why Rowan and Thea had to move out of their apartment. The flashing lights and people screaming… It was just as upsetting for little Thea as it was her father, though he would never admit that.

“Where do you want these?” Ress asks, following behind her. In his hands are her luggage, and Aelin flashes him a thankful smile. She barely made the walk from the elevator; there was no way she’d have managed the suitcases too.

“Just leave ‘em there,” she tells him. Ress raises her eyebrows, and Aelin laughs softly. Hoarsely. Her voice is shot to hell, and it doesn’t seem to plan on coming back any time soon. “Seriously. It’s fine. Go home and get some rest, and I’ll do the same.”

Ress makes a face. “Are you sure you should be by yourself? Those steroids are…”

“Nothing compared to some of the other shit that I’ve put into my body.” Aelin raises an eyebrow, and Ress grimaces. He’s been with her longer than anyone else on her team other than Gavriel; Ress knows the truth.

“Seriously, R.” Aelin waves him toward the door. “I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.” At Aelin’s glare, he cracks a smile. “Miss? M’lady?” He sweeps into a bow, desperate to make Aelin laugh. “Your _majesty_.”

Aelin laughs, but the sound quickly becomes a cough. “Get out my face,” she threatens. “Now.”

Ress salutes her. “Your wish is my command, but if—”

She hardly hears anything else that the security guard says through her clogged ears. Aelin mutters something vague in response before dragging her feet towards her bedroom. She’s exhausted, both mentally and physically. Emotionally. Aelin just wants to sleep forever, and she has every intention of doing just that.

Aelin is out before her head hits the pillow.

##  **IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEDIA FRENZY, AELIN GALATHYNIUS GOES AWOL.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS FLEES VELARIS WITH THE PAPARAZZI HOT ON HER HEELS.**

##  **PUBLICIST NESRYN FALIQ SHARES STATEMENT FROM AELIN GALATHYNIUS,** _ **I WILL SEE YOU ALL VERY SOON.**_

When Aelin wakes up next, she isn’t alone. There’s an arm locked tight around her waist and a warm, solid chest brushing her back with each breath. She recognizes the comforting and familiar smell of Rowan’s pine-scented soap; it fills Aelin’s half-asleep brain, making her smile. 

_Home_. Aelin was home.

Aelin curls impossibly closer to Rowan, pressing backward into his embrace; her boyfriend gives her a squeeze, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck. Aelin sighs happily and lets her eyes fall closed; she has every intention of falling back to sleep with the sweet knowledge that Rowan is with her, holding her, keeping her warm.

“Love you, baby,” Rowan mumbles in his sleep, giving her another squeeze. Aelin shivers as his breath tickles the sensitive skin of her neck. She waits for Rowan to say something else, but her boyfriend goes quiet, and his breathing slows.

Aelin bites back a smile. Rowan is still asleep. And talking to her. Telling her that he loves her.

She wiggles in his arms, turning onto her back and tilting her head to the side to look at Rowan. Aelin watches him sleep, laughing when Rowan grumbles at the change in position, but he adjusts without waking up, resting his head on the pillow next to her. Rowan’s nose finds Aelin’s hair, his breath tickling her temple. 

Awake, Aelin knows there's no way she’ll be able to fall back asleep. The light in the room is bright and blinding; the apartment is utterly silent except for the sound of Rowan's soft breathing. No dog barking or toddler is raiding the pantry. Aelin wonders where the little girl is at; she doesn’t even know what time it is. How long has she been sleeping?

“Staring is rude,” Rowan whispers without opening his eyes. The rough timbre of his voice sends another shiver of awareness through Aelin’s body. It’s not fair, she thinks, as Rowan blinks at her, his green eyes sending her heart tripping over itself. No one should look so good when waking up; it should be a crime.

Aelin bites her lip to keep from smiling. She fails. “But you’re just so nice to look at.”

Rowan’s laugh is soft and fond. His hands snake around her waist, and he tugs her closer to his side, pressing his face into Aelin’s neck to hide his expression. Aelin can feel his pleased smile against her skin anyway. He whispers, “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

“I doubt that,” Aelin protests. A cough tickles the back of her throat as she speaks, and Aelin clears her throat to fight it off. It’s way past time for another dose of meds. “I haven’t looked at my reflection in days. I probably look like some kind of cough syrup mutated monster.”

Rowan doesn’t bother hiding his laugh this time. His eyes twinkle with amusement, and he tucks a bit of her wild hair behind her ear with a smile. “You look like a blanket hog, but that’s nothing new.”

Aelin’s surprised gasp morphs into a cough. “Rude,” she wheezes. “I’m sick. You can’t make fun of me when I’m sick.”

Her words fill Rowan’s eyes with concern. He presses the back of his hand against her forehead, testing out her temperature. The downturn of his lips tells Aelin that Rowan doesn’t like what he finds; Aelin is about to ask him not to start fussing when another cough hits her. Aelin whines instead. 

“Oh,” Rowan breathes. “ _Baby_.” 

He curls a hand around the back of her neck and pulls Aelin into his chest. She leans into him happily, taking comfort from his warmth and the way he rubs soothing circles between her shoulder blades. The weight of Rowan’s touch is better than any medicine. She sighs into him.

“Where’s the medicine that Yrene prescribed?” he asks.

Aelin groans. Talking suddenly seems like a lot of work. Rowan laughs softly and kisses the crown of her hair. He rubs her back, waiting for Aelin to answer him. She sighs again. “It’s in my bag by the front door.” A weak cough sneaks out of her. “The bedroom was too far, and I don’t let the guys in my bedroom.”

“You better not.” Rowan chuckles. It’s no secret that the one thing Aelin hates more than packing is unpacking. He kisses the top of her head. “I’m going to go get it, and I’ll be right back.”

Rowan lets her go, sliding out of bed, but Aelin whines, clinging to his shoulders to keep him close. Rowan laughs again and pries her hands from his shirt gently. “Let’s take care of you, and then we can waste the whole day in bed, okay?”

“Promise?” Aelin pouts.

“Promise.” Rowan brushes his lips against hers and rises from the bed. “That was the best damn nap that I’ve had in weeks. _Years_.” He smiles, heading for the door. Something makes him pause, and he turns back toward her. “Are you hungry? Should I make you some food?”

“Cuddles,” Aelin whines. “Come back!”

Rowan barks a laugh. “Gods, I’d forgotten what a monster you are when you’re sick.”

Aelin replies with yet another whine, and Rowan flashes her a wide grin before disappearing down the hall. Aelin pouts at the ceiling, cold without her boyfriend in her bed. Sighing, she rolls over and presses her face into her pillow to wait.

Aelin doesn’t even realize that she’s fallen asleep until Rowan is waking her up. He offers her some medicine, and Aelin accepts the meds without complaint. She downs the water bottle Rowan offers next, feeling suddenly parched; Aelin suspects that it’s steroids. They’re strong stuff, designed to knock Aelin out cold and to get her back on her feet and the tour as quickly as possible.

While the shows in Prythian have been pushed back, the handful of dates left in Erilea are still up in the air, waiting to see if Aelin’s voice returns or not. If not, she’ll have to start actually canceling dates instead of rescheduling them, but Aelin’s determined to be well enough to not have to do so.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Rowan coos. His lips ghost her forehead, and he adjusts their position to get them more comfortable. “Thea is hanging out with Lys and Aed for a bit. I’m all yours.”

“Nurse Rowan to the rescue,” Aelin sniffles.

“Don’t be rude.” Rowan flicks her on the nose. “Or I’ll leave you here to suffer alone.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Aelin challenges. Her grip tightens on his middle. Just in case. “You’re too neurotic to leave me to fend for myself.” Aelin yawns, feeling the exhaustion about to reclaim her. “That’s why you’re here with me now—after I told you to stay away.”

Rowan huffs a denial. His warm hand slides down her spine, and Aelin’s eyes grow heavier by the minute. “You’re so annoying,” he tells her. They both know that he’s lying. “Get some sleep.”

“Shut up,” Aelin says around another yawn. “You can’t get enough of me. You love me.”

“For reasons that continue to elude me,” Rowan muses, playing with her hair. Aelin hums at the feeling of Rowan’s lips brushing her forehead again, but Aelin doesn’t hear whatever else her boyfriend says, giving in to sleep at last.

##  **DID AELIN GALATHYNIUS ACTUALLY GET SICK?**

##  **SOURCES SUGGEST DRUG USE WAS THE PRIMARY CAUSE FOR MISSED PRYTHIAN DATES.**

##  **DID AELIN GALATHYNIUS CANCEL PRYTHIAN DATES BECAUSE OF HER ADDICTION PROBLEM?**

The next two days are a blur. Aelin sleeps on and off while Rowan hovers around the apartment, looking after her and keeping Aelin company. She makes a show of being annoyed by the fussing, but they both know that Aelin is happy to have Rowan there taking care of her. Even if it _was_ her idea to stay alone at the apartment while she got over her cold.

So when she wakes up alone, Aelin is both disappointed and a little confused. She looks around the bedroom; it is quiet and dark, the curtains pulled closed to keep out the afternoon sun. Because it is afternoon, Aelin realizes when she checks the time. Well past it even. 

Aelin sits upright, testing out her head. She waits for the throbbing ache to return or for the cough to attack her again. But nothing comes. Hope kindles in her chest. Maybe she is getting better.

**Where are you?** Aelin asks.

Rowan doesn’t take very long to respond. **I went to pick up Thea** , he says, **Your cousin won’t say as much, but I can tell he needs a break.**

Aelin laughs at that. It probably has been a lot for Aedion to handle on his own, Rowan’s wild daughter and his increasingly pregnant girlfriend. Lysandra hit the seven-month milestone about a week ago, and she’s just as glowing and beautiful as ever. Totally unfair.

**Someone needs to break the news to him,** Aelin types, **that once the baby gets here, there will be no more breaks.**

**Well, I suppose I’ll have to return the favor somehow** , Rowan replies. 

Fear strikes Aelin at the thought of being responsible for a baby. A _new_ baby. Getting to know Thea was different, far less intimidating than a small, breakable baby. By the time Aelin came into the toddler’s life, Thea was mostly self-sufficient. Lys and Addy’s baby would… not be.

Aelin shakes off her nerves and assesses how she’s feeling. The pressure in her head has all but disappeared, and Aelin thinks that the world almost sounds better than it did the last time Rowan woke her to pour some thin soup down her throat.

Hoping a shower will make things even better, Aelin gets out of bed and heads for the bathroom. The face that looks back at her in the mirror has pale skin and wild bedhead; she’s almost embarrassed to think of Rowan spending the last forty-eight hours seeing her look like this. 

Aelin has known Rowan for years, but they’ve been dating for eight months. And they’ve spent far less time than that actually together. It all feels so new still—the kind of new where Aelin still wants to look good for her boyfriend.

And not like some sick, medicine-mutated monster.

She showers, stepping out into the dark bedroom while she brushes her teeth. Aelin frowns at the thought of Rowan lurking in the dark bedroom with her all of this time, and Aelin knows that he was there the whole time. Rowan was there every time she woke up, armed with water and medicine and, sometimes, soup. 

Was that all he’d done for two days? Lay in the dark with Aelin? Listened to her cough and complain?

Her phone chimes. Rowan texts again. **How are you doing? Are you feeling any better?**

**Much better now that my hair is clean.** It was tempting for Aelin to make fun of his codependency, but she knew well that if the tables were turned, Aelin would be right in his spot, lying beside Rowan and holding him as he suffered. Warmth blooms in her chest at the thought; it was nice to know that Aelin had someone in her corner.

Rowan would be there for her no matter what, from fighting colds to battling off the invasive press.

**And stop fussing, Buzzard!** Aelin adds before tossing the phone to the side. Her nose wrinkles at the sight of her unmade sickbed, and she sets to work stripping the dirty bedding. A clean bed would probably feel even better than clean hair.

Aelin laughs when the phone rings, a familiar tune filling the room. She knows who it is without having to look.

“Considering that I’ve been spoonfeeding you soup and cough medicine for days, Aelin,” Rowan scolds, beginning without preamble, “I’m more than allowed to fuss over you. I’ve earned it, I’d say.”

It’s not hard for Aelin to picture the Whitethorn Frown gracing Rowan’s features right now. She laughs, gathering the bedsheets and sitting atop the mattress. “I’m _fine_ , Rowan. I happen to have an awesome boyfriend, and he took great care of me. Nursed me back to health and everything.”

“Huh,” Rowan says. Aelin can hear his smile. “He sounds like a great guy.”

“That he is,” Aelin chirps. “A real keeper.”

Rowan barks a surprised laugh. “Finally, I get the appreciation I deserve.”

“Who said that I was talking about _you_?” Aelin teases. “I was talking about one of my other boyfriends. Duh.”

“Aelin, you are not as funny as you think you are,” Rowan grumbles. 

Aelin’s laugh is loud, but even she can hear the hoarse quality to it. “I’m fucking hilarious, and you know it.”

“A regular comedian,” Rowan deadpans. He sighs, the sound turning to a laugh at the last second. “I’m pulling up to the apartment now, so I’ll be home soon, okay? Take some more medicine.”

“Ugh, I hate that shit,” Aelin groans. “It’s messing with my head.”

“I know, but it’s helping,” Rowan tells her softly. Aelin hates that she knows he’s right, especially as the exhaustion begins to weigh on her once more. Maybe she was a little overzealous in thinking that she could get some laundry done and remake the bed.

“Whatever.” Aelin knows she sounds petulant. Rowan huffs a soft laugh. “See you soon. Bye, baby.”

##  **ADARLAN RECORDS PROVIDES ANOTHER VAGUE RESPONSE WHEN ASKED ABOUT AELIN GALATHYNIUS, PROMISES NEW DATES “SOON.”**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS CONTINUES TO HIDE FROM THE LIMELIGHT FOLLOWING CANCELED TOUR DATES.**

##  **SONGWRITER ROWAN WHITETHORN SPOTTED AT AELIN GALATHYNIUS’S UPTOWN APARTMENT. COULD THE SINGER BE AT HOME?**

Little feet wake Aelin up next. It’s confusing to her because Aelin has no recollection of falling asleep in the first place. The last thing she remembers is forcing down some more medicine and then sitting down for a bit of a breather before making her bed. 

Oh. Oops.

“Shh, Daddy!” A little voice giggles. “Aelin is _sleeping_.”

Rowan’s gentle laugh pulls Aelin the rest of the way back to consciousness. His voice is fond, amused. “That sounds an awful lot like something you’re supposed to be doing right now, huh?”

“Nooo,” Thea drags out the word. She giggles some more. “No sleep.”

Aelin keeps her eyes closed, feeling the bed shift under the little girl’s weight as Thea climbs in. Rowan chuckles again, but it’s easy for Aelin to pick up the strain of impatience there. He’s probably worried his daughter is going to wake Aelin up.

“Love, Aelin is sick,” he says. “We have to let her sleep.”

“Oh no!” The toddler says anything but quiet.

“Remember the last time you were sick?” Rowan shifts in the bed to make room for Thea. Through the slits of Aelin’s eyes, she can see that Rowan’s tucked his girl under his free arm; the other gives Aelin a gentle squeeze.

“You slept for days, Thee,” he whispers. “You needed it.”

Aelin’s lips tremble with the need to laugh as Thea’s little hand pats against her cheek roughly. Rowan laughs softly once more, reaching for Thea’s hand; he pulls it away to keep his daughter from abusing his girlfriend further.

“Hey, Potato.” Aelin coughs to clear her throat. “Long time, no see.”

Thea breaks into more giggles. She cups Aelin’s face in her hands before smacking a loud kiss to her forehead. “Get better soon!”

Rowan’s laugh is louder this time. He snatches his kid out of bed, and Thea squeals in surprise, giggling happily as her father lifts her into the air. Aelin watches with a smile; Rowan gives his daughter a kiss on the top of the head before setting her free on the floor.

“Let’s get you back into bed, huh?” he says to his daughter.

Thea groans unhappily, but she leaves the room without complaint, chirping a goodnight to Aelin. Rowan’s smile is guilty when he meets Aelin’s eye. “Sorry. She’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed her, too,” Aelin sighs, letting her eyes fall closed. “And you.”

“I happen to be very missable.” Rowan’s smile is in his voice, and his lips brush hers. “I know it’s for a shit reason, but I’m thrilled to have you home.”

Aelin hums her agreement and blindly accepts another kiss from her boyfriend. Rowan laughs at her antics and says, “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.”

##  **ROWAN WHITETHORN AND DAUGHTER, THEA, TAKE AELIN GALATHYNIUS’S DOG FLEETFOOT FOR A WALK.**

##  **PUBLICIST FOR AELIN GALATHYNIUS CONFIRMS SINGER AND HER BOYFRIEND, ROWAN WHITETHORN, ARE LIVING TOGETHER.**

##  **_FOR SALE!_** **ROWAN WHITETHORN LISTS UPTOWN APARTMENT.**


	66. Chapter 66

##  **THE DORANELLE PARTYING SCENE—HOME OF AELIN GALATHYNIUS.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS CONTINUES TO STAY OUT OF THE PUBLIC EYE.**

##  **IS AELIN GALATHYNIUS IN REHAB?**

The following morning, Aelin’s team arrives.

They show up like the three horsemen, a bad omen if Aelin’s ever seen one. Nesryn is the first arrival, wearing the kind of hardened expression that is probably more suitable for a battlefield than a business meeting. Then again, maybe it’s perfect. Some of Aelin’s meetings sure do feel like battles.

Essar is the next to arrive, and Aelin would be excited by the smell of coffee if it weren’t for the look on her assistant’s face. Someone’s been hiding something. Aelin is just about to ask Essar to rip off the bandaid, but the brunette buries her nose in her email inbox, cleverly avoiding eye contact.

The news must be really bad. Fuck.

Dread drives Aelin to check her phone as they wait to start the meeting. Rowan and Thea left this morning to visit Lyria’s parents, an eager Fleetfoot on their heels. Aelin was only slightly hurt that her dog appeared to prefer Thea’s company over hers, but little kids were far more fun to a dog like Fleetfoot than Aelin, who’s been sleeping for days.

**How is the trip?** Aelin asks, feeling a lot like one of those worrisome girlfriends she liked to make fun of so much. She shrugs it off, though; something was up, and she needed to check in with Rowan before she made herself sick with worry.

**Fleetfoot made me keep a window down the whole way** _ **,**_ Rowan complains, making Aelin smile. **But we just arrived.**

**Oh. Good.**

A pause and then, **Is everything okay?**

**Fine** _ **,**_ Aelin lies.

Rowan’s response is lightning fast. **Look who is fussing now.**

**Shut up** _._ Aelin hits the buttons on the screen with more force than necessary. It’s easy to imagine the smirk adorning his face, wherever Rowan was at the moment. Somehow, it made her hate him all the more.

Still, Aelin needed to be honest with Rowan. He needed to know what was going on, even if Aelin wasn’t sure herself. **Something is… happening. I don’t have any more info than that, but I just wanted to check-in.**

**Okay.** The ellipses doesn’t fade. Rowan says, **Keep me posted.**

The doorbell rings as Aelin sends off a thumbs up, and Essar reaches the door before Aelin can even think to answer it. Gavriel waits on the other side, wearing a concerned smile and looking unnaturally like Aedion. But Aelin also knows that look. It’s yet another ominous sign—the third and final nail in the coffin. 

“That bad, huh?” Aelin aims for levity. Her voice is raw and hoarse, but she’s been trying to warm it up, to test out the waters. Petrah would be furious with her if she knew.

No one cracks a smile.

“Oh.” Aelin lets out a shaky breath. “Shit. Yeah, okay.”

She flops into the nearest armchair, trying and failing to shrug on her mask of bravado, but the armor doesn’t seem to fit around her nerves. Kindly, her team pretends not to notice. Aelin clears her throat roughly. “Lay it on me.”

##  **MORE DATES CANCELED BECAUSE OF AELIN GALATHYNIUS’S OVERDOSE.**

##  **_DEAR SOCIETY_** **SINGER LIES TO FANS ABOUT ILLNESS, COVERS UP SUBSTANCE ABUSE.**

##  **SOURCES CONFIRM THAT AELIN GALATHYNIUS IS BACK IN REHAB.**

And that’s just the highlight reel.

“I—” Aelin finds herself at a loss for words.

The silence in the room is too loud for Aelin’s liking. She struggles to ignore the weight of her team’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. Essar is practically braced for impact, and Gavriel is so still that it tells Aelin everything she could ever need to know.

Nesryn holds her gaze when Aelin meets it. “It’s bad—worse than usual.”

“No fucking shit!” Aelin throws the magazines to the coffee table with more force than necessary. “ _An overdose?_ I’m in _rehab_? Seriously? These people need better things to do with their lives than fucking up mine.”

When no one says anything, Aelin looks up. She does so just in time to catch Nesryn’s dark eyes slide to Essar’s. Nes meets Gavriel’s eyes next, and the three of them share a long, silent conversation with one another. It’s the kind of thing that only serves to infuriate Aelin more. 

“Hey!” Aelin snaps at them, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m right here! Don’t do that; don’t keep secrets. _Spill_.”

Essar takes a breath to prepare herself. Aelin tries not to hold it against her assistant; she knows that she can be difficult when things get like this. When _she_ gets like this.

“You’ve been off the road for two weeks now, Aelin, and no one has seen you in the interim—which is nothing short of a miracle.” A beat. “Celebrities have gone off the map and to rehab in shorter periods.”

“To various levels of success,” Nesryn drawls. She sweeps her glossy, dark hair to the side. “With everything being said about you—the cheating, your drug history, the rumor of your overdose—” She counts them off on her fingers, and Aelin scowls at her. —it’s a natural conclusion.”

“What the fuck, Nes?” Aelin throws her hands in the air. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

The publicist raises her hands in surrender. “Someone’s cranky today.”

“I want to release a statement.” Aelin rises to her feet, feeling aggravated. Anxious. She just needs to be able to _do_ something. She starts to pace. “How about I just go out there—” She motions wildly towards the front door, and the paparazzi waiting outside. “—and give them all a piece of my mind. I’d love to tell all these assholes to go fuck themselves.”

Gavriel barks a laugh. “That’ll prove ‘em all wrong.”

“Well, what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” Aelin hisses.

Gavriel flinches, unaccustomed to having Aelin’s wrath aimed his way. He averts his eyes, unwilling to fight Aelin like she wants him to. Aelin fails to see the humor in this situation. She’s pissed, and she needs someone or something to take her anger out on. 

“We could start by _not_ yelling,” Essar suggests. “You’re supposed to be on vocal rest, remember?”

“Yeah, fuck that.” Aelin drops back into the chair, scowling. She stands up just as quickly, unable to sit still; Aelin pulls on her hair, wincing when her fingers get tangled in the untameable blonde locks. Her hair was another thing in her life that needed some help. Though it was tempting to take her bad mood out on her hair and shave it all off. 

Nesryn tilts her head to one side, assessing Aelin in that eerie way of hers. “Should we cancel the rest of the tour then? Your Erilea leg starts in another week—because of the canceled shows—and no offense, but you sound awful.”

Aelin levels a glare at her publicist. “I’m not canceling _anything_."

Nesryn hardly blinks, dragging her gaze over Aelin. “You look like shit, too.” A sigh. “I know it’s tempting to go out there and yell at the world for wronging you, but all they’ll see is another strung out pop star—off her drugs and acting out.”

“I’m not either of those things!” Aelin protests, though a part of her thinks it’d be easier to deal with this shit if she were high. Aelin sighs. “Ugh. Fuck them.”

Gavriel sighs. “The media could care less about whether or not any of this is true, Aelin.” He pauses, musing over what he says next. “You should know that better than anyone by now. Remember why you took off to Velaris three years ago?”

“So that people with more attractive accents could talk me into doing dumb shit?” 

No one misses the way her voice breaks on the words, struggling to keep up with her temper. Aelin probably shouldn’t be yelling like this; her throat still feels raw, though she’s been without a cough for days. She clears her throat unsubtly. 

Essar snorts, but her voice is thoughtful. “Yes, let’s blame it on Cassian’s accent.”

“We both know you preferred Morrigan’s,” Aelin retorts lightheartedly, rejoicing in how Essar’s brown skin flushes at the mention of the supermodel. Aelin grins.

“Petrah has already suggested that you cancel the last leg of the tour.” Gavriel shoots Aelin a look, staying her protests. “Stop trying to give her material to back up her suggestion. Adarlan is watching this PR disaster, and they get to make the final call, remember?”

“A fact that I still find to be utter bullshit.” Aelin sinks back into her chair. The group is quiet while Aelin processes her emotions. She sighs, looking to Nesryn. “I’m guessing your plan of action involves an outing of some sort, right?”

Nesryn’s smile promises it all. “You’re going to go for a walk.”

##  **PUBLICIST FOR AELIN GALATHYNIUS DENIES REHAB RUMORS.**

##  **ADARLAN RECORDS PROVIDES NO COMMENT FOR** _ **DEAR SOCIETY TOUR**_ **DELAY.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS CONTINUES TO HIDE, BUT WHERE?**

“This has got to be the dumbest shit I’ve ever done in my life,” Aelin says through a brilliant smile. Her companion guides her down the front steps with a hand on her back. People shout her name, and cameras blind her with their flashbulbs. 

Aelin keeps smiling. “And I’ve done some pretty stupid shit in my lifetime.”

Vaughan’s chuckle is fond and comforting. “Do you remember that time Rowan dared you to eat that weird pepper?” he asks as they slide into a black SUV. Aelin lets out a breath of relief as the doors close, and the world goes silent. 

“It was the one from the desert.” Vaughan’s dark brows pinch together in thought. “The Armored Pepper? Amith?”

“The Amaroth Pepper,” Aelin supplies. Her friend’s eyes light up with amusement; Aelin quickly kicks out with her leg. She relishes in the grunt that escapes Vaughan when her foot collides with his shin. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.”

“We had to make a pitstop to take you to the hospital!” Vaughan happily reminds her. “Gav was pissed because we almost missed our next stop.”

“I almost _died_ because of that stupid Buzzard.” Aelin crosses her arms, but a smile plays at her lips at the thought of a young and mischievous Rowan. “But everyone was mad at _me_ because I coughed myself hoarse.”

Vaughan’s smile turns gentle. “He took good care of you afterward if I remember correctly. Guilty bastard never did have it in him to follow through on a prank.”

“We can’t all be as ruthless as you, asshole,” Aelin says, thinking of Vaughan’s many pranks. “You can almost be as bad as the twins—combined.”

“Thank you.” Preening, he leans back in his seat and makes himself at home. Vaughan looks thoughtful. “Gods, I think the only other time I’ve ever seen you turn that red was when you caught Fen with that guy from our Bellhaven opener.”

“Sam’s drummer!” Aelin gestures wildly, and her phone goes flying. Vaughan ducks to avoid impact. “Fuck! That was awkward.”

Vaughan flashes her a grin and passes Aelin her phone back. “All I know is that I heard you scream bloody murder, and then you came running off the tour bus, begging everyone within earshot to end your life.”

Aelin sniffs, refusing to feel bad for her dramatics. “I saw a lot of things that I didn’t need to see.” The memory of that alone is enough to cause her cheeks to burn, and Aelin covers her face with her hands, groaning. “How was I supposed to know what was going on in there?” She waves her hands. “Fen broke the rules! No sex in the common spaces!”

“It was a tour bus, Ace,” Vaughan argues. “ _Everywhere_ was a common space.”

“It’s called a hotel room, _Vaughan_ ,” she hisses. “Or, like, use a closet like everyone else.”

The author considers Aelin’s words. “Just how common a practice is that?”

“That sounds more like a question for Lor,” Aelin replies. Her bandmate’s face lights up with curiosity, and Vaughan pulls his phone out of his pocket, likely to text the man in question. When Aelin’s own phone chimes a few moments later, it’s due to a text from Lorcan.

She barks a laugh, turning the phone so that Vaughan can read it. **Are you spreading rumors!?**

Another text comes in. **What have you told him?**

“Your secrets will die with me,” Vaughan promises solemnly.

Aelin snorts. “But I didn’t tell you anything.”

A sly grin. “Yeah, but Lor doesn’t know that.”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS LEAVES TOWNHOUSE WITH VAUGHAN PHILLIPS.**

##  **ROWAN WHITETHORN NOTABLY MISSING FROM DORANELLE HOME.**

##  **OUT OF REHAB SO SOON? AELIN GALATHYNIUS SEEN IN DOWNTOWN DORANELLE.**

“So, you’re telling me that I’m not ever going to find you and Rowan going at it on the bus table?” Vaughan asks at the park.

They’re searching for somewhere to sit, and like a true gentleman, Vaughan carries their cups of ice cream in his hands. Aelin knows better than anyone that his chivalry is for more nefarious reasons; the bassist turned author is known for sampling others’ flavor choices when they aren’t looking. Sometimes even when they are. 

He grimaces when Aelin doesn’t answer. “Wow, I’ll need to start paying for a hotel room,” he says with remorse. “I do not want to see Rowan’s ass ever again.”

“Oh, come on,” Aelin laughs, flopping onto a picnic bench. “It's a pretty cute butt!”

Vaughan snorts, sitting opposite her. “I’ve seen better.”

Aelin wiggles her fingers, silently asking for her food. As predicted, Vaughan takes a bite out of her scoop of ice cream, and Aelin gasps in shock. She doesn’t know what’s worse, that she fell into his trap again or the method by which he eats the frozen treat.

“I hope you get a brain freeze,” she mutters, frowning at the missing bite of ice cream. Aelin rolls her eyes at him. “Why don’t you just get two scoops of ice cream?”

Vaughan shrugs.”I didn’t know I wanted mint chocolate until you ordered it.”

“Try ordering last some time.” Aelin glares at him, but Vaughan ignores the look, aiming his spoon towards her cup once more. Aelin slides her cup closer to her, shielding it with her hands. “Vaughan Phillips, I’m supposed to be behaving, but you’re making that very hard.”

His brown eyes sparkle. “So, share.”

“I will fight you,” Aelin promises. “And the world will have photographic proof that you deserved it.” A pause. “Nesryn will be upset at me, though.”

“You want some?” Vaughan holds out his cup of coffee-flavored ice cream. Aelin looks at the frozen treat disdainfully. It’s not that she doesn’t like coffee ice cream, but rather that Aelin doesn’t want to admit Vaughan’s methods are right.

Vaughan's smile is bright as Aelin takes a spoonful of his ice cream. They eat in silence, the only sound to be heard the clicking of unwanted cameras and other park patrons. Vaughan makes an excellent companion, too lost in his own thoughts to try prying out Aelin’s as they share ice cream. 

“I can’t believe I let Nesryn talk me into this,” Aelin complains softly. “ _Take a stroll around the park_ , she said. _Be seen with a friend._ ” She turns towards Vaughan, and he blinks innocently from over his glasses. “That’s you, in case you were wondering.”

“Well, I’m honored to be your—” He makes a show of sitting up straight and adjusting an invisible bow tie. He clears his throat for emphasis. “— _least problematic friend_.”

Aelin rolls her eyes. “I don’t know if you should view that as a compliment.”

Vaughan just grins around his spoon. They both know Aelin is lying. In fact, Vaughan is her least problematic friend, according to a very specific list curated by her team. It _is_ a compliment as far as Vaughan is concerned.

“Aelin!” Someone shouts. Neither of them looks towards the cameras. “Aelin!”

Vaughan’s smile fades into an adorable frown. “Well, that’s just rude.”

“And you guys wonder why I never look up when my name is called,” Aelin grumbles. “Rest assured it is not because I’m deaf.”

“Aelin, can we get a smile?” The click of a camera. “Where’s Rowan?” A beat. “How was rehab?” 

She releases a heavy breath. Aelin asks between her teeth, “Do you think flipping them off is a horrible idea?” Vaughan chuckles, and Aelin smiles. “I don’t know if I could get away with hitting another paparazzi. Nesryn might just drop me.”

“Probably a bad idea,” her friend agrees. “Though that doesn’t mean it’s not very, very tempting.” Vaughan takes the last bite of his ice cream. Someone shouts his name next. He sighs, “Time to go?”

“Yes,” Aelin breathes. “Let’s get out of here.”

##  **VAUGHAN PHILLIPS SHARES ICE CREAM WITH AELIN GALATHYNIUS.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS TAKES A WALK IN THE PARK WITH FORMER BANDMATE.**

##  **THE CADRE MEMBERS MAKE FUNNY FACES AT PAPARAZZI.**

Nesryn will kill her when she sees the shots of Vaughan and Aelin. 

Abandoning the temptation to throw middle fingers at the cameras, Aelin and Vaughan made a game of flashing doe-eyed expressions at the camera, freezing mid-step periodically on the walk back to the car. Ress struggled to maintain his serious bodyguard facade in the face of their silliness, but Brullo looked utterly at a loss.

Vaughan had a blast, giggling that funny giggle of his that he gets when he’s up to no good; Aelin enjoyed seeing her friend like that. It made her long for their younger days, a group of young rockstars globetrotting in the name of music and causing trouble.

“Today was a good day,” Vaughan says, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “We should do this more often. But next time, I want Malakai’s.”

Ress waits for them at the car, already holding the car door open for Aelin. She dives inside, and Vaughan follows close behind, escaping the paparazzi at last. The door closes behind them, and Aelin cracks a gin at her friend. 

“Gods, I would do just about anything for some hazelnut cake,” she groans.

Vaughan’s smile is sly. “That kind of talking is what gets you into trouble, Ace.”

“If it gets me cake, the trouble is worth it.” Her smile is wide as he laughs, but Aelin’s mood still turns sober. “Thanks, though,” she tells Vaughan. Aelin nods toward the chaos outside when he raises his brow in question. “For keeping me company today.”

“No problem.” He smiles. “But next time you're buying.”

The drive back to her townhome is otherwise uneventful. Aelin checks in with Rowan to see how his trip is going. He and Thea have only been gone for two days, but they stole her dog. Aelin is lonely without the three of them. She was ready to have them all back.

Aelin pretends not to notice Brullo as he takes a call in the front seat. Nor does she acknowledge the sidelong look her security sends her way. It doesn’t bear well for whatever is waiting for her at home.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Aelin says to no one in particular.

Ress smiles apologetically. “There’s a crowd waiting for your return.”

“There’s always a crowd waiting for her,” Vaughan grumbles. The steel in his brown eyes twists Aelin’s heart with guilt. Maybe it was a bad idea to ask Vaughan to come here, to fly out to Doranelle and keep her company while Rowan was gone.

“Gods,” Brullo says, slowing the car. He prepares to take the turn toward her private parking and the entrance to her home. Aelin can already hear the buzz that the arrival of their vehicle has caused; the crowd roars.

“No. I’m not hiding,” Aelin snaps. “I’m going to use my front fucking door.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Brullo’s voice drips with disapproval. The man hates nothing more than a security nightmare like Aelin’s front porch.

Aelin’s stomach falls at the sight of the chaos waiting for her. Glancing at Vaughan’s serious expression, she’s hit with guilt. Just look at what she’s managed to drag her friend into so quickly. It only took a few hours.

“Hey.” Vaughan taps her nose. “Don’t make that face. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be your ice cream date.” The seriousness vanishes from his eyes. “Besides, I’m _way_ cuter than that other guy that’s been taking you out. It’s no wonder they’re so excited.”

A laugh escapes Aelin despite herself. She leans toward him. “You’re not really my type,” she tells him. Vaughan snorts. “And I’m going to tell Rowan that you said that.”

For a heartbeat, Vaughan looks frightened.

“You ready, girl?” Ress asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “It’s a warzone out there.”

“We’ll be right back for you, Aelin,” Brullo says. The pair disappears.

Vaughan makes a show of rolling up his sleeves. “It’s been a while since I marched into battle with you, Aelin.”

She glares at him. “Could you find this a little less funny, please?”

Vaughan’s dark eyes shine with an apology, and Aelin squeezes his arm quickly. He doesn’t need to say sorry to her; Aelin’s the one being a bitch. The door opens before either can say anything, and Aelin turns to look at Ress. His expression is hardened, but he gently helps Aelin out of the car. 

Lights flash in Aelin’s eyes, blinding her. People reach out for her, their fingertips brushing her arms as she walks the daunting twenty feet to her door. Aelin flinches when Vaughan’s hand presses into her back to help guide her forward. She can’t believe she needs help getting to her front door.

People scream Aelin’s name, shout ridiculous questions for her to answer. It would be overwhelming if Aelin could hear any of them over the ringing in her ears. Her heart races in her chest, and suddenly, Aelin regrets her stubborn streak. She definitely should’ve taken the back door into her own damn home.

And then, “Who’s better in bed, Aelin?”

Aelin whips her head around so fast, she’s surprised it doesn’t come off. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

Everything goes still. Quiet. There’s a small, logical part of Aelin’s brain that warns her that the man in front of her is just trying to get a rise out of her. She’s been on her best behavior for over a week; being sick and in bed really helped with that. It worked well for Aelin, but it made for a boring news story.

“Who’s better?” The reporter is relentless. “Rowan? Lorcan?” He looks over his shoulder to Vaughan, whose hand still rests innocently high on her back. “Now, Vaughan?”

The man waits for an answer. Aelin notices the recorder in his hands, the lanyard around his neck that marks him as a member of the press.

The press. What a joke.

“Better at what?” Aelin asks. She feels the mistake in her bones as she makes it. The first rule for dealing with a press scandal is to not engage. To wait for a controlled environment before pleading her case. But Aelin had little intent on pleaded for anything.

The paparazzi’s smile is lewd. Aelin’s feet carry her to the crowd barrier before her brain catches up. The man lifts his chin, but the smile doesn’t fade from his face. For the longest of seconds, they stare at one another, sizing each other up. 

“You’ve worked your way through your whole band now.” His words turn Aelin’s blood to ice. “How does Rowan feel about you—”

Aelin wraps her fingers around that stupid lanyard and yanks him forward. Someone familiar calls her name, and a friendly hand reaches for her elbow. Aelin shrugs them off; her sole focus is the reporter in front of her. She’s more than ready for a fight.

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” Aelin hisses. The venom in her voice surprises the reporter she holds hostage, and Aelin releases her hold on him, stepping back and attempting to remember herself. It almost works.

“Who the fuck do _any_ of you think you are?” Aelin’s temper snaps. She spins around, meeting the gazes of the reporters in a challenge. “Huh? Why do you think that you all can just gossip about my life? My friends? Make up rumors?”

Vaughan’s eyes are as wide as his spectacles. “Ace,” he says low, “let’s go inside.”

“You know what?” Aelin dodges Ress when he reaches for her. She points at the man in front of her, then the others watching. “ _Fuck all of you_.”

“Aelin—”

“My private life is just that—” An arm wraps around Aelin’s waist as she rants, dragging her toward the townhouse. But it’s as if now that she’s started, Aelin can’t bring herself to stop yelling. “ _—private_!”

Aelin’s feet hit the porch stoop. She’s not taking the steps, but somehow, Aelin is making it up the steps anyway. She shouts as Vaughan carries her over the threshold of her front door. “So why don’t you all just mind your own fucking business?”

Her front door slams shut, and the world goes quiet. In here, the reporters can’t reach Aelin, but the consequences of her actions can. Aelin’s temper starts to fade, and she starts to come to terms with what she’s just done. 

“Oh, shit.” Aelin’s eyes go wide, and she looks to Vaughan. Her friend looks prepared to commit a murder; Aelin thinks it might just be hers. She points an unsteady finger at the door. “That was Aelin Bad, wasn’t it?”

Vaughan huffs, clearly unamused. “That was _Noisy Neighbors_ tour Wrap Party Aelin Bad.” He throws a hand in the air. Then runs it through his messy hair. “Maybe worse, and if I recall, you once got into a fight with a man in his forties because he called your hair stupid.”

“That’s because my hair was awesome!” Vaughan sends her an incredulous look; Aelin holds her hands out in supplication. “What?”

“I hate you,” Vaughan says, but a smile fights his frown. “So much.”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS ASSAULTS REPORTER OUTSIDE OF DORANELLE TOWNHOUSE.**

##  **SECURITY DRAGS HYSTERIC AELIN GALATHYNIUS INTO HER HOME.**

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS GOES ON RAMPAGE OUTSIDE OF HER DOWNTOWN HOME.** _ **FUCK ALL OF YOU.**_


	67. Chapter 67

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS GETS OUT OF REHAB TOO SOON!**

##  **PREPARATIONS FOR THE** _ **DEAR SOCIETY**_ **TOUR COME TO A HALT AFTER AELIN GALATHYNIUS HAS PUBLIC MELTDOWN.**

By evening, there isn’t an entertainment outlet in Wendlyn that isn’t spreading the word of Aelin Galathynius’s latest “temper tantrum.” Aelin tries not to let it get to her, tries to ignore it all in the first place, but when her showdown with Adarlan makes a comeback, Aelin starts to stew in her anger. She feels misread, outnumbered. It’s miserable. Everyone always assumes the worst.

Vaughan attempts to lighten the mood with endless jokes and good food, but even his dry humor isn’t enough to save the evening. Aelin feels terrible about that, too. They’re the only two in the house that evening with Rowan out of town, though it’s hard to believe with all of the voices on Aelin’s conference calls. Aelin knows she should be a better host than this, but it’s too much at once.

So, she makes an excuse to turn in for the night, incapable of pretending any longer.

A plethora of missed texts and calls are awaiting Aelin when she powers her phone back on the next morning. Guilt strikes a heavy blow at the number of times Rowan’s name appears on her home screen; she missed their evening check-in because Aelin was too busy drowning in her misery. She forgot to return the call and knowing Rowan; he’s probably worried himself sick about it.

Gods, Aelin was a shitty girlfriend.

“This is a complete disaster,” Nesryn says when Aelin answers the door.

Manon scoffs at the publicist before Aelin can say something smart. The stylist tracks Nesryn as she takes a seat, platinum blonde hair whipping around dramatically. Most of Aelin’s team arrived before she was even awake; Nes was the last to arrive, living the furthest away.

“Why is _this_ a disaster?” Manon raises a sharp brow to communicate her lack of concern. “It’s not like Aelin decided to deck the guy or something.” A wicked smile. “Again.”

“Now, that would’ve been some good shit,” Asterin adds, entering the room from the kitchen and tossing herself over the back of Aelin’s couch. She lands beside her cousin with a grin. “I totally would’ve punched that asshole. He deserves it. Worse.”

Essar sighs deeply. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Asterin flashes Essar a smile equally as troublesome as her cousin’s; she holds Essar’s gaze as if it were a dare of some kind. Aelin shifts her gaze between them, a sorry attempt at puzzling out the silent conversation. Essar is the first to break, rolling her eyes before ducking her head. She cracks the barest of smiles.

Huh. Aelin didn’t see _that_ coming.

“You’re not surprised because Aelin is drawn to violent-prone individuals—just look at Lorcan,” Vaughan’s voice is matter-of-fact. He doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading. “It helps her feel like the normal one in the room.”

“Excuse you!” Aelin swats her friend on the back of his head. “Rude!”

Vaughan turns the page of his book. “Thank you for making my point.”

Still, his brown eyes are full of amusement when he glances at her; Aelin’s glad to see it didn’t take long for her to return to Vaughan’s good graces. She wasn’t sure how long it’d take to win him back after yesterday’s disastrous outing.

“Well, you’re still rude,” Aelin complains, dropping back onto the couch and sitting on Asterin’s other side. Asterin is more than happy to rest her head atop Aelin’s shoulder before placing her feet in Manon’s lap.

Aelin shoots her bandmate a stern glare. “What are _you_ doing here anyway?”

“I’m reading.” Vaughan looks at her over the rim of his glasses. “And _you’re_ ruining the best part.”

“Oh. My apologies,” Aelin tells him, not at all apologetic, “return to your reading.”

Vaughan gives a vague wave over his shoulder, burying his nose back into his book. A laugh bursts suddenly from Essar, and the woman’s brown skin flushes, surprised by her reaction to Vaughan. Aelin bites back her smile. 

“Alright,” Aelin sighs, glancing around the room. “What’s the plan?”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS UNDER FIRE FOR ATTACKING A MEMBER OF THE PRESS.**

##  **ROWAN WHITETHORN RETURNS TO DORANELLE!**

Despite the witty start to the morning, things quickly go south for Aelin. One second her team is bickering back and forth about lunch plans, and the next, they’re arguing about the steps Aelin should take to smooth things over with the press.

“That’s ridiculous,” Gavriel barks at Nesryn. His face flushes with his temper. “You can’t honestly expect her to go out there and _apologize_ —”

Nesryn cuts him off, “Well, she needs to do something.”

“Those people are _harassing_ her,” Vaughan hisses, looking more frazzled than usual. The calm, cool, and collected bassist has cracked, abandoning his book in favor of backing up Gavriel. Vaughan is not on her team, but he is on her side. The Cadre always have each other’s backs. 

“Why should she be the one to ask for forgiveness?” Vaughan practically growls. “Why is Aelin the one who’s done something wrong?”

It takes a lot out of Aelin to not launch herself at her friend, to not hug him so tightly that his ribs crack.

“Do you have a better idea?” the publicist asks the room. “Any of you?”

“Do you?” Aelin scoffs, feeling hateful. “What do I even pay you for?”

Nesryn’s eyes harden. A part of Aelin’s brain reminds her that she shouldn’t be pissing off her publicist of all people right now, at a time such as this; this mess isn’t any more Nesryn’s fault than it is Aelin’s. But another part of Aelin is _mad_ at Nesryn. All of this has been a colossal disaster, and it’s Nesryn’s job to manage this but—

Aelin was the one who yanked a man around by his lanyard. 

“Why don’t we all take a minute?” Essar interrupts with a careful voice. “Lunch is here. Things will start to look a little better with some food in our bellies.”

Following Essar’s lead, the team clears out of the room. Aelin remains behind; she’s not really in the mood to eat or socialize with anyone. Instead, she paces the length of the living room, working out her anxious energy in the least destructive way she knows how.

She’s nearly worn a hole through the floor when the private entrance unlocks. Aelin huffs at the intrusion. The last thing she wants is another person in her home, barking orders and making decisions. Gods, Aelin could use a drink.

It’s a surprise to hear Fleetfoot’s excited barking, announcing her arrival home. Aelin beams at the sight of her dog wiggling towards her for some attention. She greets the dog happily and glances at Rowan; the sight of those worried green eyes lifts a weight from Aelin’s shoulders. There’s nothing else she’d rather do than rush into his arms and escape the bullshit.

But Thea crashes into Aelin’s legs first. Her sweet laughter is almost enough to patch up the cracks in Aelin’s armor; she’s missed this kid.

“Hey, Tater Tot!” Aelin drops to her knees to give Thea a fierce hug. Her voice is full of bright if fake cheer. “How was your Gammy’s?”

“Fun!” The toddler giggles at her new moniker. “We went to the zoo!”

“The zoo?” Aelin meets Rowan’s eye. His smile is a little easier than it was just moments ago. “That sounds like fun,” Aelin adds in a sweet voice. She’d die before she let Thea figure out that something was wrong.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it later, okay?” Aelin can’t help squeezing the girl one more time. Thea returns the gesture briefly, but she wiggles restlessly, wanting to be set free.

Aelin laughs softly and releases her. “There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Thea’s smile is wide. “Okay!”

With that, Thea runs away. Aelin laughs at the quick dismissal, watching as the promise of food guides Thea and her dog toward the kitchen. They’re too easy to please. 

Rowan is waiting for Aelin when she rises back to her feet. Aelin folds herself in his open arms and presses her face into his chest. Aelin sighs into his embrace.

Rowan cups the back of her head. His fingers thread into her hair as he holds her close. “Hey, Baby.”

“I missed you,” Aelin tells him, taking a deep breath and seeking comfort in Rowan’s touch. “Vaughan’s a bad influence.”

“Oh, you can’t blame this on Phillips,” Rowan scolds lightly. His chuckle is warm, and he rubs her back. “He may be guilty of over-pouring the tequila from time to time, but he’s way too shy to yell at anyone, much less strangers.”

The crying comes out of nowhere. The heavy, hot tears startle Aelin as much as they do Rowan, and he leans away from her in surprise, cupping Aelin’s face. He wipes the tears away with his thumbs. “Baby?”

“I—” Aelin chokes on a sob. 

Without another word, Rowan pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close. Aelin forgets whatever it was she was going to say to him. It doesn’t matter now anyway. 

“It’s okay,” Rowan murmurs into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

And that’s the truth.

Aelin knows that with Rowan by her side, it’s okay to let herself fall apart. Rowan will have her back through it all, and he’ll help piece her back together afterward. He squeezes her tighter as if sensing her thoughts. 

Safe in his arms, Aelin allows herself to cry it out. She cries about everything. The canceled shows. Having to cancel more. Getting sick. Losing her voice. The rumors. The paparazzi. It isn’t until a moment such as these Aelin remembers how many people are watching her, waiting for Aelin to trip and fall.

Sometimes, she wonders if it’s all worth the trouble.

Rowan quietly leads Aelin away from the living room as the tears start to slow. Aelin follows him blindly, too upset with herself to worry about abandoning her work. She smiles when Rowan guides her upstairs to their bedroom; he perches on the end of the bed and tugs her into his lap.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice is soft, and Rowan presses his lips to her hair.

Aelin sucks in an unsteady breath and rests her head against Rowan’s shoulder. She focuses on the feel of his warm hand rubbing her back as they wait for the tears to stop. As they dry, Aelin feels silly for crying. She knows Rowan is the last person to ever hold them against her, but Aelin wishes she were stronger, less inclined to cry over every little thing.

“It’s not your fault,” Aelin says, at last, hating the hoarseness of her voice. “ _None_ of this is _your_ fault.”

Rowan sighs. “I just wish I were more help.”

Aelin leans away from him, meeting his earnest gaze. Aelin suspects that he’s feeling just as helpless as she is right now, and that’s more than enough to drive her worrisome boyfriend mad.

“You are helping.” Aelin bumps his nose with hers in reassurance; she savors how it draws the smallest of smiles from him. “More than you realize, and I love you for it.”

Rowan brushes Aelin’s lips with his. They both sigh into the kiss, deepening it. Rowan’s hands are quick to free her hair from its messy bun, and Aelin winces into their embrace when his fingers get caught in the bird’s nest of tangles.

“Sorry!” He smiles apologetically, then focuses on undoing the knot in her hair. 

Aelin laughs. “You have a thing for hair.”

It’s not an accusation, but Rowan treats it as such, scowling. “And you have a thing for dirty talk.”

“That I do,” Aelin agrees. The dark look on his face makes her shudder, but Aelin dodges his next kiss, knowing his intentions. “Stop distracting me from my problems.”

His lips ghost her throat instead. “I’m helping, remember?”

“Rowan, we—” Aelin gasps when Rowan’s teeth scrap at her pulse point. “We have a house full of people right now, and Thea’s—”

“—with Vaughan, probably learning to read before she’s even in preschool.”

His words cause them both to laugh, and the heat in the room fades away. Rowan releases a heavy sigh, but he loosens his grip on Aelin. Just a little. Aelin can’t help the surge of disappointment that comes when his mouth leaves her skin, and she contemplates the pros and cons of pushing Rowan down to the mattress to have her way with him. 

If his smile is any indication, Rowan knows exactly what she’s thinking.

“Come on,” Rowan nudges her out of his lap, and Aelin frowns at being displaced. It makes him smile. “Let’s go get some food.” Rowan takes Aelin by the hand and pulls her to her feet. “And see just how many people are sneaking that dog food.”

“She deserves _all_ of the treats.” At her boyfriend’s answering frown, Aelin laughs brightly. “What? She does!”

##  **AELIN GALATHYNIUS INCREASES SECURITY AT HER TOWNHOME.**

##  **WHAT IS THE MEDIA’S FASCINATION WITH AELIN GALATHYNIUS?**

Aelin and her team are much kinder to one another after a hot meal. They set up in the dining room, hunched around computers and phones, making plans to tackle Aelin’s newest scandal. Aelin nods at the appropriate times, but a lot of what they say goes over her head.

The cry she had with Rowan was pretty helpful, but it’s left Aelin’s mind foggy. The doubt and insecurities linger on her skin, and she wonders if everyone around her can see it. If that’s why they’re all putting on such brave faces.

“Everybody out.” 

The sound of Rowan’s stern voice snaps Aelin out of her misery. Her boyfriend stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, waiting for someone to challenge him. Aelin’s team blinks at one another and then Aelin. They’re not sure who to take directions from.

Aelin laughs at her team’s confusion. “You heard the man.”

“All you’ve done is go back and forth for hours.” Impatience leaks from Rowan. The rigid set of his jaw tells Aelin there’ll be no arguing with him. “There’s nothing more to do for the night. So get out of my house.”

Despite the bossiness of his words, hearing Rowan call the townhouse his home brings a smile to Aelin’s face. It’s the first time that she’s heard him refer to her home as his, and she could get very used to it. The look on Rowan’s face suggests he feels the same. 

“Rowan,” Gavriel sighs. “We really can’t ignore this. It’s—”

“Out,” is Rowan’s reply.

Nesryn ignores him. She turns in her seat toward Aelin. “I can have you on Doranelle FM tomorrow morning. The rush hour slot.”

“Radio?” Aelin’s brows raise. “When nine times out of ten my voice gives out mid-sentence?” She grimaces when it does just that. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“You really should address things, Ae,” Essar says gently. It’s not her place to provide guidance, but Aelin’s always encouraged her to give her opinions. “It’s pretty crazy out there.”

Rowan growls in annoyance, but Aelin ignores him for the moment. She meets the gazes of those in the room. “And say what exactly? That I’m sorry?” 

A pause. Nesryn’s hopeful expression tells Aelin everything she needs to know; they’re hoping she’ll do just that. Or just enough to smooth things over.

“Yeah, fuck that.” Aelin slumps back in her chair inelegantly. “Nothing good or friendly will come out of my mouth on live air tomorrow. Or the next day. Let that make our decision, huh?” Aelin glances at Rowan’s hardened experience. “Now, you should all leave before my boyfriend decides to toss you out.”

“So violent,” Vaughan muses from his place in the corner. His smile is sly. “Just like I said earlier.”

Aelin throws her pen at the man, and Vaughan laughs as it makes an impact with his head. His smile crinkles his eyes.

“Out,” Rowan repeats. “All of you.”

Thea chooses that moment to appear. “Yeah! Out!”

The room fills with chuckles at the little girl’s antics, but Aelin’s team appears to take the hint, rising from their chairs and gathering their things. Soon they’re gone, bidding Aelin goodbye and promising to follow up with her tomorrow.

Aelin bites back a smile. Of course, the team would listen to Thea but not Rowan. She looks toward Rowan; his annoyed face tells her that he noticed, too. 

But the expression melts from Rowan’s face when Aelin catches his eye. Smiling, Rowan rounds the dining room table. He places a hand on either side of Aelin’s chair and leans in, brushing his lips against hers softly.

Aelin hums against his mouth. “I’ve missed you,” she tells him, earning another, firmer kiss. Aelin cups the back of Rowan’s neck, holding him hostage; he laughs against her mouth but complies, deepening the kiss.

“Gods, you two really are gross, aren’t you?”

Vaughan’s voice breaks the couple apart. Rowan’s head whips towards their bandmate, arching a brow in a challenge, and Aelin giggles, tugging Rowan’s face back towards hers for another kiss despite their audience.

Thea chimes in her two cents with a wrinkled nose, “Yeah, gross.”

They break apart. Rowan shoots their friend a nasty look. Both Aelin and Thea break into giggles; they are the last ones ever to be afraid of the brooding guitarist. No one knows better than the two of them what a big softie Rowan actually is.

“I thought I told you to go,” Rowan grumbles.

Vaughan smiles innocently, raises his hands into the air in surrender. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

Rowan makes a face at the reminder, and Aelin bites back a laugh. Vaughan is staying with them until he leaves town in a few days. Rowan’s idea in the first place; Aelin doesn’t know how he could have forgotten.

“ _Please_ don’t make me stay with Lor or the twins.” He shudders at the thought. “I can offer dinner and excellent wine.”

An exasperated sigh. “Fine,” Rowan says, “but only if it’s that pasta of yours.”

Vaughan grins. “Done!” His attention shifts to Thea. “Wanna be my sous chef?”

Thea’s eyes are wide. “Huh?”

“Come with me,” he tells Thea magnanimously. Aelin snickers as she watches Vaughan lead the little girl from the room. Thea watches her uncle with curious green eyes, following after him eagerly. Once she learns it involves food, Thea will always want to be the sous chef.

Rowan watches them leave with a faint smile. His eyes are bright with affection when he looks at Aelin, but it isn’t hard for Aelin to see the shadow of concern in them. Rowan won’t mention it, but Aelin knows he’s worried for her.

“Alone at last.” Aelin smiles coyly. Rowan ducks his head to hide his laugh, and Aelin holds her arms out in invitation. “Get over here.”

To her delight and surprise, Rowan perches himself in her lap, squeezing himself into the small chair with Aelin with as much grace as possible. She bursts into laughter and wraps her arms around his waist to hug him from behind—her silly Buzzard.

“So. How was the zoo?” Aelin smoothes her hand down Rowan’s back. Her boyfriend barely suppresses the shudder her touch brings out of him. Satisfaction floods Aelin; she bites her lip and repeats the motion.

It takes him a moment to respond, “The zoo was a lot of fun, actually. Minus the meltdown that Thea had when it was time for her to leave.”

“Oh no,” Aelin laughs, knowing well what he meant. Thea was just as stubborn as her father. “I’m sorry things took a turn for the worse.”

Aelin runs her hand up Rowan’s spine and across his shoulders; she relishes how the tension melts from her boyfriend’s body. Aelin knows without having to ask that Rowan’s spent the last few weeks fretting over her, tying himself into a knot of nerves and concern.

Rowan releases an unsteady breath. “It wasn’t so bad. It’s part of being a parent.” A long pause. “I wish you could’ve been there. I’m sad you missed it.”

There’s nothing Aelin would have loved more than to tag along with them, but her damage control schedule hadn’t allowed for it. Of course, spending the weekend with Lilly was not very appealing for Aelin, but she could rough it for Thea. And Rowan.

Her lungs had other plans, too. They weren’t up to the challenge of the Doranelle Zoo and Gardens.

Aelin holds her breath until she’s certain Rowan won’t hear her disappointment in her voice. She’s sorry she missed the memories; Aelin’s missed enough time.

“We should go back sometime.” Aelin focuses on the finger she drags down Rowan’s spine, a feeble attempt to wrangle in her feelings. “When my life is less of a fucking circus.” Rowan goes still under her hands, and Aelin hesitates, wondering what’s overcome her boyfriend. “Babe?”

“Fuck. I’m such an asshole,” Rowan swears. “I should be the one taking care of _you_ right now, and here I am—” He turns around suddenly in her lap, and the shift in his weight knocks the air from Aelin in a whoosh. “Fuck! I’m crushing you.”

Aelin laughs breathlessly and clutches her stomach as Rowan springs from her lap, but she frowns at the loss of contact. “Where are you going, Buzzard? Come back!”

“Trade places with me,” Rowan all but orders. 

Aelin stares at him in confusion. “But I was enjoying myself.”

“Me, too.” The heat in Rowan’s eyes brings a flush to Aelin’s cheek. Dumbly, she stands at Rowan’s urging, allowing him to reposition them so that she sits in his lap instead. Rowan’s lips brush Aelin’s ear as he adds, “Quite a bit, honestly.”

Aelin shivers, and he chuckles. Adds, “But right now, it’s supposed to be about you.”

“You’re fussing,” Aelin accuses. Rowan doesn’t bother arguing the fact, choosing to tuck her in closer against him. Aelin relents, pressing her back into his firm chest, but it’s what she feels against ass that makes Aelin’s suck in a breath. 

“Are you sure you wanna switch?” Aelin’s grin is sly. She can’t resist wiggling her brows, teasing him.

Rowan huffs. “Don’t embarrass me in front of our guest.”

“Vaughan’s not a guest,” Aelin argues, wiggling to get comfortable. She doesn’t miss Rowan’s intake of breath. Enjoys it even. “He’s family—which means we can totally sneak upstairs and make out. They’ll hardly notice.”

His laughter is surprised, but Rowan’s smile lights up his face. Aelin’s heart flops in her chest. He doesn’t look like that nearly often enough for her liking.

Rowan gives her a look that makes her toes curl. “It’s a tempting offer.” 

“You mean, _I’m_ tempting.” 

Another low chuckle that makes Aelin shiver; Rowan tucks her hair behind an ear, a disarmingly sweet gesture. “That you are.” His lips brush the space behind her ear. “But for now, I think I should go check on Vaughan and Thea.”

“Why?” Aelin whines. As if on cue, something crashes in the kitchen, and the chefs in the kitchen break into raucous laughter, one a low rumble and another the sound of bells. “Oh!” Aelin’s eyebrows raise. “That can’t be good.”

Rowan and Aelin get to their feet. He grumbles, “Let’s go make sure they don’t tear down our kitchen.”

Aelin’s smile hurts her face. “I like the sound of that.” 

Rowan asks the question with his eyes. _What?_

“ _Our_ kitchen.”

##  **REPORTER PRESSES CHARGES AGAIN** _ **DEAR SOCIETY SINGER.**_

##  **WILL ADARLAN RECORDS CANCEL THE** _ **DEAR SOCIETY**_ **TOUR?**

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to scream at me on tumblr! @noodlecatposts


End file.
